


Aftershocks

by Illgetmerope



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Co-Workers to Friends to Lovers, Emmerdale Big Bang Round 3, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-01-25 04:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 68,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21350551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illgetmerope/pseuds/Illgetmerope
Summary: Aaron is a mutant working undercover for the Sugden family as Robert’s bodyguard. Jack Sugden is writing the bill that will inform how the world responds to mutants, and Robert is the resistance’s only hope. Can Aaron convince him to help the cause?
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 67
Kudos: 155
Collections: Emmerdale Big Bang Round 3 2019





	1. Tremor

**Author's Note:**

> The **amazing** art for this fic is by @their_dark_materials (aka @rustandruin on tumblr), who spent so many hours immersing themselves in the world of this fic. They dedicated themselves to thinking about the kind of material that would compliment and expand upon it, and I'm so impressed by and thankful for them.

_A teenaged mutant walked into The International School of London today and produced a palm-sized black hole without warning, killing all 910 humans inside. Emergency workers on the scene say the mutant was destroyed by the action. Officials are calling it the greatest tragedy in British history, and are making a push for more stringent restrictions on mutants and those who harbor them. _

——

Aaron paces the semi-dark basement, trying to calm his breathing. He can’t lose control. Not here. The police have gotten far smarter recently. They’re using new tech to sense any oddities: radiation spikes, temperature changes, barometric pressure readings, and recently even micro-seismic activity. He can’t release stress into the rock bed anymore. Can’t syphon off emotions and tremors into the earth.

Cain sits at the small table, watching him.

“It has to be you, Aaron.” His voice is understanding but firm.

Aaron scrubs a hand over his face, frustrated when it doesn’t make the manila folder on the table disappear.

He’s finally gotten his life together. He’s got a steady job working security at high-end construction sites. The booms and vibrations of demolition tools allow him to mask his energy: they can’t install sensors in the vicinity without them going off every minute.

“Why? Why me?” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, trying to hide their tremor. Feels the atoms in the air respond and push away from him. Sees them ruffle Cain’s hair a bit.

“Representative Sugden does full background checks. You’re the only one with the right job history and a clean record.” Cain doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Aaron snorts. His record isn’t exactly squeaky clean, but he supposes young offenders doesn’t count.

“Only because I didn’t get caught after they started mandatory DNA sequencing of all felons.” He scoffs, thinking of the years he’d spent getting picked up for disorderly conduct and vandalism.

Cain shoots him a look and pushes the folder forward.

“Aaron, we need this. His son’s powered. He can help us, but we need to know how to push him.” He waits a beat for Aaron to make eye contact.

“He wants to exterminate us. We can’t just stand by.”

The clamor inside Aaron stills. He knows. Knows that without leverage they’ve got no chance.

He bites his lip, finally walks to the table and flips open the cover page, and is met with a surveillance photo of his target. He looks like a posh twat, arm over some girl as they exit a club.

_Robert Sugden: 28 years old. Son of Representative to the UN Security Council Jack Sugden. Suspected power: influence of will due to chemical stimulation. _

Aaron closes his eyes, gritting his teeth. So there’s the true reason he’s been chosen. Growing up with a father that took away his agency daily, forcing him to never use his ability, to be good, to listen, to _behave_— it had nearly broken him.

When the authorities found Gordon’s body, no one had cared once he’d tested positive for mutation.

The man was useful in the end: Aaron is, for the most part, inoculated against environmental influence. He can feel it’s slimy touch on his skin and resist its pull.

He clenches his teeth, desperately wanting to shove his fury into the foundations at the flashes of memories.

But that’s what everyone wants. They want him to destroy. Want all mutants to fit their narrative. When for some people every emotion causes disaster, it’s an easy stereotype to slip into.

He looks down and sees he’s crumpled the edges of the folder in his grip. He unclenches his fingers slowly, will deliberate in every creaking joint.

“Do you think he’s strong enough to make his father change his mind?” He has to know what he’s going up against, what they’re asking of him.

“We do.” Cain nods, still watching Aaron intently.

Aaron knows they need this. Need a win. Need something to stop the endless legislation against their very existence. The reality of their situation makes him sag, staring down at the photo in his hands.

Cain’s control slips momentarily as he feels Aaron caving, his arms leaving shove marks carved into the wooden table as he pushes himself to his feet. “We just need an in.”

——

_A mutant rights march in Toronto turned ugly today after a group of humans whose families have been harmed by mutant actions began protesting the event. Angered by their words, one young woman threw a man through a police windshield. This prompted a riot that ended when all the mutants had been subdued. Four humans remain in critical condition._

——

Cain has a contact put in a good word for him with the representative’s head of security, Graham. He’s reading through Aaron’s CV while Aaron sits as still as he can, trying to look blandly trustworthy.

“You’re young.” Graham grits out as if pleasantries pain him.

Aaron starts at that, wasn’t expecting that critique if he’s honest.

“That’s good. We need someone to keep up with Robert’s… lifestyle.” Graham’s got a look on his face that speaks volumes about how little he approves.

“_If_ you’re hired your hours will be erratic, and most of them will include time at some nightclub or other.” He sighs, swiping his eyes over Aaron. “At least you’ll manage to get in. Robert lost his last handler when he was deemed ‘not up to the club’s standards’ by a bouncer with a big head.”

Aaron shrugs, not knowing how to respond to the assessment.

There’s a twitch of a smile across Grahams lips, “Not much of a talker. That’ll help too, Sugdens talk enough for all of us.”

Graham stands, so Aaron mirrors the movement, keeping his eyes on the man’s stance. He’s ex-military, best as he can tell. He’s got the clipped sentences and low growl of someone who’s taken orders all his life.

They’re interrupted by a single authoritative knock followed immediately by the door opening to reveal Jack Sugden. Aaron feels like he’s going to be sick at the sight of him.

“Ah! I see you’ve got a new man for the job, Graham!” Hearing Representative Sugden’s voice with no television or radio interference is jarring. It’s usually spewing hateful accusations and promises of stricter enforcement.

It takes squeezing onto every fiber of Aaron’s being not to end him instantaneously with a violent jolt of force shoved into his ribcage. They don’t need more martyrs for the anti-mutants to rally behind.

Aaron looks down, belatedly realizing there’s a large hand extended towards him, and he moves to shake it.

“Aaron Dingle, sir.” He tries to keep the contempt from leaking into his voice.

Jack’s hand is dry and his handshake is perfectly practiced.

“And a Yorkshire lad at that!” He claps Aaron on the shoulder, “Good to meet you, Aaron.”

Aaron grinds his teeth, tries to smile a bit, and nods. He’s not sure he could manage words at the moment, the bile rising in the back of his throat is silencing him.

He’s grateful when Jack turns to Graham to check over a plan for the night; Aaron can’t make himself focus over the blood rushing in his ears. He breathes in, counting silently, calming his flight or fight instincts.

He’s proud that not a single hair on Sugden’s head shifts. His control impeccable just when he needs it to be.

Jack Sugden is writing the bill that the entire world will be looking to to guide their approach to mutants, and he’s made it clear his intention is to treat them like a tumor he can cut out. They need him alive if they’re going to change his mind.

——

_Radiation leaking from an incarcerated mutant wiped out ten government enforcers today in a São Paulo facility meant to contain them until processing. This is the latest in a wave of deaths caused by attempting to capture suspected mutant activists alive. In response, Brazilian officials have announced their new policy will be to shoot confirmed mutants on sight. No decision has been made by the higher-ups about what to do with mutants who willingly surrender themselves._

——

Aaron is in a simple black suit and white shirt. His shoes are the only thing that give him away as no office stiff: they’re thick-soled and heavy, ready to help him run at a moment’s notice. His earpiece curls down, brushing lightly against his neck, making him start occasionally. He’s used to it at the building site, but here he’s got so many eyes on him that the feeling of the coil ghosting across his skin is making him jumpy.

He has to pass this first meeting with Robert in order to be chosen to be on the permanent team. Aaron’s been shortlisted after his initial interview and fitness assessment, but Robert gets the final say.

Anxiety ripples through him. The whole house is crawling with people who run on hate and spin, and there’s no way he wouldn’t get spotted if he syphoned off some of his growing tension. He’s lucky the current laws against discrimination make it illegal for anyone to test DNA without just cause.

Another thing Sugden wants to change.

He hasn’t met Robert yet, but based on the murmurs he’s heard while other members of the staff chat around him, he sounds like a reckless idiot. Aaron’s pretty sure if they just put Priya in something slinky she could get him alone in a heartbeat.

Too bad there’s no way to make Robert do what they want even if they do have him. Influence only works when the power comes from a need within the mutant. All their powers are like that, fueled by the rushes of endorphins or cortisol. It’s why the way Aaron is sweating under his collar needs to stop. His control is good, but no one is perfect.

If he’s bothered by the fact that his son is currently twenty minutes late, Jack doesn’t show it. He’s walking back and forth and practicing a speech. Aaron has chosen to tune him out after he caught the word “perversions.”

Twenty-five minutes after they were supposed to do introductions, Robert strolls in. He’s still in last night’s clothes, fitted deep blue jeans with a creased, lightly patterned dress shirt hastily buttoned, too few done up top for modesty. He has the air of a rocker, with sunglasses on indoors and his hair still rumpled.

He looks like someone a different Aaron would shove into a bathroom stall and drop to his knees for.

“Morning.” Robert’s deep voice sounds wrecked. “Sorry I was late, but I was entertaining a guest and time got away from us.”

The smarm seems to pour off of him, so self-satisfied. The way Jack’s shoulders tense is the first crack in the man Aaron’s seen.

“Robert, nice of you to make an appearance.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but Robert seems completely unaffected by the chilly greeting.

Jack gestures at the four security guards and Aaron straightens under the attention.

“Graham’s vetted all of these men, and recommends you choose one for our trip to New York next month.” His voice is condescending, clearly having little faith in his son’s choices.

“There’s space allotted for the next...” he checks his watch, throwing a significant glance at Robert. “Thirty-three minutes for you to interview them in the conference room.”

He turns to the group, new smile plastered on. “It was a pleasure meeting all of you.”

His facade is so controlled that Aaron can almost understand why people flock to this man.

Robert takes off his glasses, eyes a bit red-rimmed either from lack of sleep or overindulgence, and skims across the four before holding eye contact with Aaron for what feels far too long. Aaron holds his breath, waiting, refusing to be the first to look away.

Robert snaps his stare over to the man next to Aaron and it makes something inside him twist.

“You first.”

——

_A brutal act of terror occurred today in Chicago, when a mutant released a biological nerve agent on the train, killing everyone on board. The rush hour L Train was between stations when the mutant made their move. The gas was fast-acting, so no one on board was able to trigger any alarms, nor could they force open the doors. Passengers in the adjacent cars looked on in horror, powerless to save their fellow commuters. The perpetrator was neutralized by a brave police officer when he attempted to escape at the next station. World government officials have begun a united effort to combat this frightening threat to humanity._

——

Robert seems to be saving Aaron for last. With each candidate he calls in he glances at Aaron first, and then changes to someone else. He doesn’t know why Robert’s needling at him, supposes it’s just another test, see if he’ll lose it at his employer.

Aaron spent the first two interviews pacing, and he’s resorted to sitting in one of the overly ornate, and frankly uncomfortable, chairs in the office while waiting out the last one.

It’s hot, and every minute that passes he’s less sure of his ability to do this job. The way the room feels like its walls are shrinking in around him has made him loosen his tie, exposing a bit of throat so he can breathe more comfortably.

He refuses to allow whatever mind game this is to rattle him.

Inhale.

Count to three.

Exhale.

Once he’s calmed down again he surveys the room. It’s Jack’s office, and it drips power. Mahogany makes up all the furniture, deep tones of greens on the upholstery, and leather-bound books line the walls. There’s two framed photos on the desk. Aaron itches to look at them, delve deeper into the mind of Jack Sugden, but the door opens and Robert’s sending out the last interview.

He’s leaning languidly against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, and he seems to have perked up considerably from his earlier state. He cocks his head a bit, swipes his gaze over Aaron, and smirks.

“Alright, Mr. Dingle, let’s chat.” His voice is deep, words curling around Aaron enticingly.

Aaron holds his gaze and waits a beat longer than Robert probably expects before standing, straightening his suit jacket deliberately, and walking towards the conference room.

Robert doesn’t leave the doorway, he just shifts a bit more to the side, leaving barely enough space. Aaron’s not one to back down and awkwardly sidle past, so he brushes past the other man as he crosses the threshold.

Aaron can smell expensive cologne: sandalwood and cedar. He hates the way that it makes his cheeks heat.

“Feel free to take a seat, there’s coffee on the side table if you want it.” Robert’s all show, acting like he’s the perfect host.

His voice perks up, a teasing tone to it. “Or, based on your CV, perhaps you’d prefer a builders tea?”

Aaron is shocked by how immediately he bristles. “I weren’t installing drywall, I was keeping an entire science facility free from attacks during their construction.” He can’t keep the venom out of his voice.

Robert seems unruffled by his tone, he just quirks his brow wryly. “Suit yourself.”

He turns away and pours himself a cup of coffee.

Without Robert’s eyes on him, Aaron can allow himself to scan the room, checking for exits, lines of sight, cameras, and sensors. He’s looking for a reason to get hired, and there are plenty. The whole house is a nightmare to protect, all open windows and hidden corners.

“I guess you don’t get many death threats, mate, because in here?” He grumbles, gesturing. “You’re already dead.”

Robert’s shark-like grin surprises him, tone edging towards impressed. “Not much for small talk, then.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “You’re hiring me to keep you safe, not be your friend.”

“With an attitude like that I’d be surprised if you have any.” There’s a tease in his voice that grinds on Aaron’s last nerve along with the cut of his words.

“If _you’re_ tryin’ to be my mate, then it seems like you pay for all yours.” He spits.

Robert inhales audibly, jaw tightening as a brief frown passes over his brow.

Aaron instantly knows he should walk it back, act like he was just joking, but this man makes him itch. He wants to poke and chip away at the veneer he’s coated in.

Suddenly Robert’s got a freckled mask on, looking too much like his father for Aaron’s comfort. He smiles and not an ounce of it reaches his eyes.

“Well, if you have such a low opinion of me, feel free to let me have it.” His voice is calm and commanding.

Aaron can feel the oil-slick slide of Robert’s power in the air, pheromones trailing along his skin. That’s confirmed, then. He stays silent.

Robert’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

He leans in, nearly purring out his next command, “C’mon, Dingle. I bet you’ve got plenty of opinions on my family. Let me hear them.”

The skin on the back of Aaron’s neck feels tacky with the push of chemicals.

“I’ve nowt to say.” Aaron shrugs, keeping his shoulders loose, face impassive.

There’s a tense moment where they stare at each other until Aaron can feel the way the room’s air changes as Robert stops pushing. The way Robert’s brow furrows a bit is as satisfying as it is dangerous.

The tiny red dot of a laser sight on the wall catches his eye, pushing him to action. He lunges and just manages to grab Robert by the wrists and twist him bodily to the ground in one fluid motion.

The bullet hole in the wall plaster is far too close to where they just stood, making his heart race.

The realization that he’s lying half on Robert isn’t an unpleasant one, but it is one he doesn’t have time to think about. He rolls off quickly, pulling them into a safer location, one more obscured from the windows.

Aaron’s suddenly glad for the transmitter in his ear as he radios Graham from under the magnificent meeting table and prays the wood can stop a bullet.

When the second shot rings out and cuts right through the tabletop, Aaron wraps his arm around Robert’s chest, pulling the man towards the other wall.

They huddle with their backs to the space between the windows, out of view from the rifle’s sight. There’s not enough room for them to sit shoulder to shoulder without touching, so Aaron can feel Robert’s shuddering breaths where their arms are pressed together. He distracts himself by keeping an eye on the doorway, but has no real plan if the next silhouette he sees isn’t friendly.

Robert’s finally snapped out of his fear, and Aaron can feel him watching him intently. It’s unnerving.

“What?” He snaps, keeping his eyes trained on the open door.

He can hear the smile in Robert’s voice. “You’ve got the job, Dingle.”

——

_A city block in Delhi was incinerated today by a mutant who was unwilling to submit to local authorities after last month’s crackdown on threats to national security. The team had him pinned down to a building, and when they breached the front doors the man set it ablaze. We don’t yet have the body count, but officials are saying it could be as high as 500. The Parliament of India has recently passed a law ordering the testing of all newborns and immediate removal from the country of any mutants marked as high risk._

——

No mutant fringe group claims responsibility for the attempt on Robert’s life, but that does nothing to temper Jack’s fury. The security has been increased. Aaron is hired as Robert’s primary bodyguard, along with a second-shift man named Pete.

They overlap for around two hours a day, and the night staff take over anytime Robert is asleep.

“Pete’s not a problem. He’s ex-military: follows orders, stands silently, and bothers no one.” Aaron rubs his temples. He hasn’t used any kinetic energy in a week and it’s starting to build into a migraine in a way he can’t ignore forever.

Cain sits across him at an outdoor cafe table, dainty espresso cup looking ridiculous in his grease stained hand. They’re talking freely, a good amount of street noise and boring chatter around them, their conversation easily melting into the surroundings.

In moments like this Aaron can forget they’re different. He can remember family dinners crowded into the back of a pub, Cain scowling into his chips while his mum teased her brother. Aaron laughing into his pint.

He also remembers rows that ended with a table torn in two and scorch marks in the shape of handprints on Cain’s chest where Chas had pushed him.

It is a miracle of village solidarity and silence that the Dingles remain undiscovered by the government.

“So you’re settled in with them now?” Cain teases, leaning back in his chair.

Aaron’s jaw clenches so tight he feels his teeth creak.

“They wanted twenty-four hour surveillance, Pete and I are bunked in together. Get four hours of freedom everyday. Least it pays well.” He scowls at his uncle.

“Once I’ve got enough for you lot I’m out. He makes me sick.” Aaron sets his cup down decisively.

Cain squints and sips, grimacing at the burnt espresso.

There’s a long silence, and Cain keeps staring at the street over Aaron’s shoulder without meeting his eyes.

Aaron’s tea turns bitter on his tongue.

“God, you’re keeping me in aren’t ya?” He asks, already knowing what the answer will be.

The way Cain’s hand smooths over his eyebrow speaks volumes.

“No. I can’t. I can’t be there until this is all done. It’ll kill me.” He hates how his voice goes a bit wobbly at the end, pleading.

His uncle tries to reason with him, voice gruff but understanding. “You’re the only one who can do it, Aaron.”

Aaron wants to throw his mug at the ground, stand and scream at the unfairness of putting this all on his shoulders. He grips the narrow arms of his chair, letting the metal edges dig into the flesh of his palm and draw his focus.

There’s a staring contest that he loses, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Word from higher up is if this doesn’t work we bring it all down. The U.N., the Sugdens, the whole hateful lot.” Cain’s face is cold and hard, his voice steely.

Aaron can feel his heart ache and shudder at the order. He’s not like that. He’s spent all of his life not being the mutant the world hates. He bites his lip and looks down at the filigree metal tabletop, hoping it holds some answers.

He finally nods and allows Cain’s next words to pour over him. They make the hair on his neck stand on end and his stomach roll.

“If we can’t stop this war, we start it in a way they’ll never forget.”

——

_After officials in Accra put down a female mutant who was suspected of the brutal murder of her husband, his family has accused hers of lying on her birth certificate about her tested status. As this would be a capital offense, the whole family has been taken into custody and is being screened for genetic markers. Any other members found to carry the gene will be put down in an effort to combat the recent rise in the mutant birth rate in Ghana._

——

Despite the exciting circumstances that resulted in Aaron’s employment, the daily work is boring. The majority of his job is babysitting the world’s biggest prat while he acts like an idiot.

They go shopping and Robert flirts with every salesperson and _somehow_ always manages to get employee discounts. They leave the stores loaded with unnecessary items and he pouts when Aaron won’t carry his bags.

Aaron rolls his eyes when Pete doesn’t even need influencing to do it.

They attend charity events and the hors d'oeuvres or drink trays always come by right when Robert wants to leave a conversation or is just feeling peckish. Cocktails arrive with phone numbers on the napkins underneath. Waitstaff hover to serve Robert’s every whim.

They go to cafes and people in line behind them always kindly lean forward to buy Robert’s Americano. Attractive baristas write their numbers in Sharpie on the cups and throw in a pastry on the house.

Aaron grits his teeth and wonders how on earth no one has ever wondered about Robert being powered.

His first three reports to Cain are just variations upon: _The man’s insufferable._

Robert’s an investment manager for his day job, and Aaron’s been instructed to stand outside his office during meetings so his clients have the illusion of privacy. He spends his time feeling the sweet honey effect of Robert convincing people to hand over their wealth so he can gamble it all in the stock market.

He’d give anything to call him on how underhanded his dealings are, how cruel it is to play on people’s base wants for his own gain. To shove Robert against a wall and tell him what he thinks of him.

He’s idly daydreaming of the gasp of shock that he could push out of Robert when for the first time since Aaron’s been in this job there are voices raised in anger in Robert’s office. Aaron can feel the sudden uptick and cling of Robert’s pheromones. Aaron can’t remember who’s in the office, so he shoulders the door open.

Robert is standing with his hands up in front of him, palms open as he tries to calm the woman in front of him. She’s tiny compared to him, but she has backed him up so he’s nearly against the wall. Aaron can’t tell if she’s a viable threat, but he knows that size is meaningless if the woman is powered.

Robert’s eyes meet his over her shoulder, shaking his head. “Nothing to worry about, Dingle. Ms. Birch here was just expressing her anger at the stock market’s variability.”

The woman turns on her heel and glares at Aaron. She points her finger at Robert, eyes watering and cheeks flushed, “This man stole everything from me.”

Aaron shrugs uncomfortably, eyes flicking between the two of them. She’s clearly not a threat, a strong wind could probably knock her over, but Robert looks unsure of himself in a way he’s never seen before. His freckles are starker against his cheeks, pale with emotion.

“Edna, the market is never certain, as I told you in our first consultation.” The air in the room is like syrup with how much Robert is pushing to convince this woman. Aaron almost feels bad for him that without a kernel of interest to grow into something more, influencer powers are useless.

The woman picks up her purse, straightens her spine, and turns to Robert. “You also _assured_ me that I could trust your instincts, Robert.” She huffs out a small sigh, “My late husband left me that money so I could live comfortably. And now what am I to do?”

Robert has the grace to look away, swallowing down any reply.

Edna stares silently at him for a beat, clutching her bag tightly, then turns and leaves, closing the door behind her.

Robert sits heavily at his desk, looking lost in a way Aaron has never seen. He tilts his head up and looks at Aaron, quirking his mouth in a self-deprecating smile.

“She was a friend of my grandmother’s. I don’t usually invest money people can’t afford to lose, but I did her a favor.”

He rubs his temple, mumbling to himself. “At least it was meant to be a favor.”

He sighs and turns to his computer screen, logging out for the day. Aaron surprises himself with an urge to comfort him, tell him he did his best. He’s a tick away from saying just that when Robert springs into action, shrugging on his suit jacket from the back of his chair.

“Right, that’s me done for the day. I’m gasping for a pint.” He sounds chipper, back to his usual carefree ways.

Aaron sighs, shaking his head. Moment over.

——

_An unprovoked attack on the Paraguaná Refinery Complex has left Venezuelan officials reeling. A worker, recently fired for testing positive as a mutant, returned in the middle of the night and detonated himself, causing a chain reaction that proved catastrophic for both the facility and the oil reserves of the country. This is the second attack by an unemployed mutant on a major processing plant following the government’s stringent new restrictions on both job prospects and food rationing. The president promised to enforce even stricter laws in response. Economists warn global gas prices may be negatively impacted this summer until stockpiles can be restored._

——

One pint turns into more, and Aaron’s stuck in a booth sipping orange juice and watching Robert slouch in his chair, staring down into his third lager.

“Forty minutes. Forty minutes and you’ve not said a single word.” Robert says, crossing his arms and turning all his attention to Aaron.

“We spend all day together and I don’t know the first thing about you. I don’t even know what football team you support.”

He gestures up at the screens that are showing match highlights of the day.

Aaron wants to make him squirm, so he takes a slow sip, immediately wishing he could drink on the job as he swallows down the sticky, sweet juice. There’s a moment when he thinks Robert’s gaze tracks the movement of his throat, but he can’t be sure.

After a beat he finally answers, “I’ve nowt to say.”

Robert makes a small noise of frustration, and takes a swig from his glass. He stares at the screen as the presenters discuss an impressive goal, then turns and studies Aaron’s profile, seemingly coming to a conclusion.

“You know what? I’m good at what I do, Dingle. I’m great at getting people to listen to me, to trust me. I gamble with what they think of as pocket money, and I’m _good_ at it.” He emphasizes his point by placing his hand on the table, a light tap on the word good.

Aaron knows he’s probably expected to offer platitudes, stroke Robert’s ego and let him preen.

He’s never been good at living up to expectations.

“Feelin’ sorry for yerself isn’t going to get that lady’s money back. You lost that woman’s savings, Mr. Sugden. You.” He turns and pushes his finger into Robert’s chest at the last word, feels the shocking warmth radiate into his knuckle.

Robert’s mouth forms an O, and Aaron suddenly remembers this is the man who’ll sign his visa application, who’ll make the call that he’s needed at the U.N.. He pulls his hand back like he’s been scalded, eyes down on the table as he searches for the words that will smooth over his harshness.

“I know.” The response is more broken and quiet than Aaron expected, and it brings him up short.

He looks over and Robert’s staring down, hands in his lap and shoulders hunched a bit. He’s holding his pint between his hands, tilting it as he watches as the foam shift and swirl.

“I really did think I was making the right call for her.” He’s quieter than normal, forcing Aaron to lean in slightly to hear.

“I had no idea transportation prices would skyrocket with the attacks in Venezuela.” Robert’s voice has lost all his bravado, seemingly worn down by alcohol and Aaron’s criticism.

Aaron sips his juice for something to do with his hands rather than any feeling of thirst. He’s never been good at building people up.

“Well, if you’re as good as you claim, shouldn’t take much to get it back, should it?” He adds a hint of a challenge in his voice. Robert’s competitive, Aaron’s seen it when he’s after clients. He turns away and looks up at the television, pretending to watch the news scroll by.

The way Robert’s eyes track sideways from his glass to the side of Aaron’s face feels like a touch.

He swears he can sense the smirk returning to Robert’s lips. It makes something small and fond warm in his chest even while he wins the internal battle to not roll his eyes at what an absolutely predictable idiot his boss is.

He still doesn’t speak, though, just watches Aaron expectantly.

“Liverpool.” Aaron clears his throat awkwardly, skimming one thumb across his eyebrow, steadily avoiding eye contact. “I support Liverpool.”

There’s a pause that goes on too long for Aaron’s comfort, “Would’ve pegged you for a United bloke.”

Aaron barely muffles an offended squawk before turning and realizing Robert’s teasing him. He can’t help but notice the way Robert’s eyes crinkle just a bit at the sides makes him look years younger and nearly likable.

——

_The United States Supreme Court has made a landmark decision to expand upon Roe v. Wade even with a Republican majority. Today’s six to three ruling states that mothers whose children test positive for mutation can terminate at any time, even well into their third trimester, without facing prosecution. This comes after a lower court ruling last month that mutants do not qualify for antidescrimination rights, and experts predict that these decisions have laid the foundation for a later decision classifying mutants as a new species, and would legally be treated in much the same way as any animal. _

——

There’s only a week until they leave for New York and Aaron’s no closer to figuring out how he could even begin to convince Robert to change his father’s mind. It’s his morning off, so he’s out for a run to clear his head. The way the impact of each step reverberates up his leg helps ground him.

He gets lost in the rhythm of the run, time and distance flying by until his black top is sticking to his lower back, his leggings are clinging to his ankles with sweat, and his heart is pounding. He’s pushed himself too hard and too far, the adrenaline coursing through him making him tremble.

He misses the dull, loosely packed earth of Emmerdale fields that would absorb everything he funneled into it as a child. Misses the way he could make ripples and furrows in farmland. Even misses his mum nattering his ear off about hiding it.

He switches his path, running towards an area he knows where the tube travels below, waits until he can feel the train grumble beneath, and matches the vibrations.

It’s good, but it’s not enough. He waits for three trains to pass, rumbling along with them and stretching his hamstrings and trying to look winded for passersby. Each syphoning off helps ease the stress on his mind, and he feels the headache that’s been brewing behind his eyes for days melt away.

He’s relaxed enough that he can finish his full run, taking another long lap around the area and keeping an eye out for both threats to the Sugdens and anti-mutant vigilante patrols. The network says there’s been an uptick in hate crimes in the last few months.

Nothing seems out of place, and he breathes a small sigh of relief. All his muscles feel well used as he arrives back at the house, taking the stairs to the door two at a time.

It has slipped his mind that today is the day Robert’s sister Victoria returns from her time at a cooking college in Italy. The whole foyer is filled with luggage and people, and he’s standing awkwardly covered in a sheen of sweat that’s slowly drying. He sniffs himself and grimaces.

He just needs to sneak by the group surrounding the young dark haired woman he assumes is Victoria so he can shower and change before his evening shift.

“Dingle!” Robert’s voice has put on airs suddenly, and Aaron knows whatever he’s about to be told he’s going to hate.

“Carry Vic’s bags up, will you?” He asks imperiously.

Aaron looks at the three large polka dot suitcases that rest at the bottom of the stairs. His hackles are already up despite his run. He’s not a porter. He actually trained for this job.

He’s about to bite back when Pete, who Aaron has decided over the past fortnight he is certain is part sheepdog, pipes up.

“I’ve got it!”

Robert actually looks like he’s about to complain before Vic pulls him away to look at some souvenirs. Aaron decides to behave just as he would at his mum’s pub and thunk upstairs like a sullen teenager.

Robert can do one.

——

_A wildfire in the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region is being blamed on a mutant child whose parents took her on a family holiday without informing the local travel board of her status. Nearly five thousand locals were evacuated this week alone due to the spread of the fire, which has been exacerbated by the heatwave this month. Police have not released the mutant’s name, but they report she is in young mutants custody, as she is six and not yet old enough to be tried as an adult. Her parents will be fined for non-disclosure, and she will remain in police custody until a decision is made by the court. Her mother has made numerous statements to the investigators that her daughter’s genetics do not have any relationship to the fire, and that they are being unfairly profiled, but French experts agree that it is impossible to tell with such a young mutant how their nature will manifest._

——

Aaron’s patrolling the lower floor while the Sugdens eat dinner to celebrate Victoria’s return. His job is to check windows and doors every hour and watch the outdoor security feeds. It’s dead boring, but he gets to avoid Robert for a while, and that’s worth every frustrating minute of footage of the back garden.

Maybe the gnome statue is a threat.

He’s on his second walk around when he passes by the dining room door.

“She’d’ve been proud of you, princess.” Jack’s voice still sends shivers down his spine.

A quiet sniffle. “Thanks, da. I kept thinking of her lasagne and how much she’d’ve loved cooking all this amazing pasta.”

Aaron’s heard of Sarah Sugden, her image and death the driving force behind Jack’s campaign of hatred. He’s never really thought about her as a mum before, it makes him ache a bit for his own.

He walks farther and finishes scanning the end of the hall and the living room before passing back by the door.

“—That’s you Robert, only thinking of yourself. Again. Your mother would be so disappointed.” Jack bites out.

That makes him start. He’s not Robert’s biggest fan, but to be told that by his own father must sting.

“I’m the disappointment? At least I’m not using her to rally everyone around a cause you know she’d hate. She was the first to go to mitigation talks, to help new pupils struggling with their powers—” Robert’s voice is raised, full of passion.

“And look how that turned out for her. Dead at their hands!” He’s never heard Jack sound so hateful to anything, even when he’s giving rising speeches in front of parliament.

“She’d be disgusted by what you’re doing.” Robert spits out.

Aaron’s heart skips a beat. It’s the first sign he has that Robert may actually want to help them. That he may be willing to change his father’s mind.

“It’s too bad she’s not here then, Robert.” Jack’s voice has gone cold and hard. “And we all know who to thank for that, don’t we?”

There’s a clatter of metal on china. He can hear a chair being pushed back angrily.

“Well, I tried, Vic.” Robert’s tone is tight and defeated, vowels clipped.

“Oh, Robert, come on. It’s my first night home. He didn’t mean it, did ya, da?” Vic’s voice is pleading.

“Of course not, princess. I’m sorry Robert, I lost my temper.” Even through the door Aaron can hear there’s not an ounce of sincerity in Jack’s tone.

Aaron rolls his eyes on Robert’s behalf. He feels the shift of pheromones through the crack under the door.

“I’m going out for the night, but I’ll see you at breakfast, yeah?” Robert’s voice has gone placating and sweet, pushing away the conversation he doesn’t want to be a part of.

“Of course, have fun on my behalf!” She’s so fast to acquiesce, eager to listen to her brother’s excuses.

Jack clears his throat, voice more measured than it was a moment ago, “Be sure to take a guard.”

That’s one question answered. Jack is certainly susceptible to his son’s power.

The door in front of Aaron opens and he is about to start back, but stops himself so he won’t appear guilty, keeps his face blank.

Robert looks him up and down. Aaron resists the instinct to smooth his grey suit pants.

“Dingle, we’re going out.”

It’s an order, not a request, and Aaron bristles at losing his night off.

His protest dies in his throat when he sees that Robert’s eyes are glassy, seemingly ready to spill over with tears.

“Get changed. I won’t be embarrassed by you.” There’s no real bite to his words, which is the only reason Aaron doesn’t want to deck him at the insult.

Aaron rolls his eyes as he pulls out his phone and texts Cain. _I have good news about the prat. Meet tomorrow?_

——

_Chinese scientists are studying a small group of nomads in the Xinjiang province who have all been found to be carriers of the mutant gene. The goal is to trace the racial origin of the mutation in an effort to better analyze which people to get tested, as officials currently struggle to manage the mutant population, particularly in more remote regions and with marginalized populations. This research is also meant to help the government identify potentially useful mutants, such as the one they tapped last month to fuel a nuclear power facility, in addition to helping them tag dangerous ones. _

——

Aaron’s leaning awkwardly with his back against the bar in the gaudy VIP section of the club as Robert sits in a booth, drinking something fruity while a redhead plasters herself across his side. The only reason he hasn’t stepped in and stopped them is that he can’t feel any influence in the air.

He supposes Robert is fit enough to pull without his powers.

He sips his Coke and wishes he could mix in something stronger, because being sober in this space makes his skin crawl. Right now his job is to watch Robert pull, and it makes him want to shake the place down.

There’s a man who’s been trying to catch his eye across the bar. He’s tall with a nicely cut jaw and hair that looks like he spends no time on it, which means he spends hours. He’s not someone Aaron would normally approach, but if he were on a night out he wouldn’t say no.

He turns back to scanning the room’s occupants, entries, and cameras. He feels rather than sees the man come over and lean next to him, body turned his way.

“Buy you another?” He’s got a kind voice; lyrical and soft.

Aaron turns onto his elbow, ready to give him the brush off, holding up his mostly full glass. “I’m all set, but ta.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to help you pass the time until you need another.” He smiles charmingly at the rebuff.

Aaron has to hand it to him, he recovers well, and his dark eyes are kind. In a different life he can imagine flirting for hours, until they’re both tipsy and leaning into each other’s space, touches lingering as the night progresses. It wouldn’t be exciting, but it would be _nice_.

Aaron’s not had much nice in his life. He’s not sure if he’d know what to do with it.

He glances over at Robert who seems to be settled in for the night with his choice, so he guesses he can spend some time chatting with the bloke. He reaches out a hand, “Aaron.”

“Milo.” Milo lets his hand linger a bit longer than normal. His hands are warm and a bit rough, as if he works with them. It makes Aaron’s mouth quirk up at the side, angle his shoulders towards him a bit.

Milo is a mechanic, and they chat about a shared love of cars. Aaron just says he works security, and leaves his half empty glass on the bar so he won’t finish it and have to explain why he’s just drinking Coke.

He’s laughing about their shared hatred of Triumphs when Milo puts his hand on Aaron’s bicep and swipes his thumb over the folds of Aaron’s black shirt.

He freezes, feeling guilty, but not knowing why. His eyes flick to the booth where the redhead is sitting alone.

“I’d get off him if I were you.” Robert’s low growl comes up behind Aaron, his influence is pouring off him in waves. “He’s not interested, mate.”

Aaron frowns indignantly, turning around and getting into Robert’s personal space. “What? You don’t own me.”

Feeling Robert’s body heat and smelling the woman’s perfume on him makes Aaron want to shove him as hard as he can. He’s in dangerous territory, so he steps away, feels the formerly occupied barstool against the back of his thighs. Milo has disappeared.

He sighs. He’s not that bothered, but Milo was a pleasant enough distraction, and Robert’s not an option.

“If that’s the thanks I get, I’ll not help you in the future.” Robert leans on the bar to order another round even though he could just wait for the server to come to his table, twisting his neck to talk to Aaron while remaining bent.

“I didn’t need help.” Aaron grits out while not looking at the way Robert’s jeans hug him. “We were just chatting.”

Robert turns, leaning just on one elbow. “He didn’t think that was all you were doing. I didn’t want you to lead him on all night, with him thinking you’re into blokes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been leading him on, seeing as how I’m gay.” Aaron can feel his pulse racing through his veins. He hasn’t been in the closet for years. It took him long enough to get comfortable in his own skin, he’s not going to compromise that for anyone.

Robert straightens, looking shocked. “You never said.”

Aaron shakes his head, “It’s not relevant to my job. Is it a problem?” He raises his chin defiantly, knowing Cain will forgive him if he loses his job over this.

“No!” Robert’s panicked expression says otherwise. Aaron rolls his eyes dismissively. He hates that he can’t read Robert, can’t tell if he’s just a panicking homophobe or a serial flirt suddenly called out.

“Your date is waiting. Let me know when you want to leave.” He pauses, wanting to move this conversation along so he can return to silence, “Sir.”

Robert opens his mouth to say something more, but his drinks arrive so he grabs them instead and heads back to the table. He brushes against Aaron as he moves past.

It makes his skin feel electrified. Robert’s arm sparking against his like static. His stomach rolls. He hates how much his own body is betraying him.

He spends the next two songs calming down while finishing his Coke. He takes out his phone to check his messages. Cain still hasn’t replied.

He looks over at Robert who looks up and holds his gaze while the woman kisses down his neck. Aaron’s mouth goes dry, but he doesn’t back down, refusing to break eye contact.

He doesn’t know what to do with the feeling of loss when Robert looks away first. The man is doing his head in.

——

_North Korea has made waves around the world by declaring itself a mutant free nation. In the past ten years all inhabitants have been tested and officials claim that they have not had a single mutant birth. Sources inside tell a far darker story of mutant death camps and infanticide. Most worrisomely it has been reported by some defectors that women who have given birth to mutant children have been killed or forcefully sterilized as they are seen as potential carriers of the gene. _

——

It’s well past one and Robert’s signing his bill, redhead still tucked under his arm. Aaron’s not looking forward to their car ride back, but he’s exhausted and Robert’s an adult who can make his own mistakes.

“There ya go.” Robert hands the receipt back to the waiter who had brought it to him.

He looks at the receipt and smiles, “Thank you, Mr. Sugden.”

The woman sits up and makes a face, turning to look at Robert’s profile “Like the politician?”

Aaron’s eyes widen a bit, hovering nearby and ready to intervene if need be.

Robert has the decency to nod truthfully, jawline tense.

She pushes herself off his rib cage, looking horrified. “You’re murderers. My brother’s got power, but he’s as gentle as a lamb, and your lot wish he’d never been born!”

She steps back further, pulling her purse over her shoulder and looking disgusted with herself, “I’ll find my own way home.”

Aaron kind of loves her. He schools his face to neutrality as Robert stands.

“Cock blocked by my dad.” Robert scrubs his face with his hand. “Again.”

Aaron’s phone pings, it's the driver confirming he’s outside. “Ride’s here.”

Robert nods, tilting a bit with alcohol, and Aaron has to dig his nails into his palms to not reach out and help him.

Robert’s uncharacteristically silent as they make their way down the stairs and out of the club. Aaron confirms the identity of the driver and does a quick scan of the car as Robert climbs into the back seat. Satisfied it checks out, he then walks around to the other side and slides in.

Robert’s leaning against the headrest in the way one does when in need of grounding because the world is spinning at the edges. His throat is bare and stretched and Aaron can see a faint smudge of lipstick on it.

He wants to wipe it off.

Robert turns his head to look at him, eyes a bit unfocused. Aaron decides to hold his gaze in silence. If he wants to talk he can, but Aaron’s not going to say the first word.

The way the passing street lights caress over Robert’s cheekbones is sinful.

They sit in silence for what feels like hours before Robert finally opens his mouth. “I don’t have a problem with it.”

Aaron frowns in confusion.

“Be a bit of a hypocrite if I did, seeing as I’m bisexual.” His voice is small and sincere, as if he’s not said that to many people.

Aaron blinks, utterly blindsided.

Robert quirks his mouth up on one side, “Just another way I’m a disappointment to the Sugden name.” He turns his head and looks out the window at the passing city.

The car comes to a stop. They’ve arrived back, and Aaron hasn’t made a sound. He doesn’t trust himself to say the right thing. He’s never been good at talking about emotions, much less sexuality.

Robert unbuckles, avoiding eye contact. Aaron can feel him pulling into himself, withdrawing the little connection he offered.

Aaron grabs his wrist, knowing he should say something before the sanctuary of the car is broken. “Thanks.” He clears his throat, “For telling me.”

Robert looks down at where his hand is encircling the bones of Robert’s wrist, and Aaron lets go like he’s holding a hot pan. Feels caught out despite not having done anything wrong. The air in the car is stifling, and he needs to escape. Aaron reaches and opens his door, stepping down and inhaling the dark night as he pushes the door shut behind him.

He walks up the stairs with his shoulders tight, sensing Robert’s surprising calm behind him.

He undoes the lock, stepping aside to let Robert inside first. The man stops, leans a little on the heavy wooden door and smiles at him.

“Don’t worry Dingle, just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I’m after ya. I do have standards.” He winks and turns back, walking confidently into the house.

Aaron’s grateful the dark masks his blush.

——

_The teenage daughter of UN member Celeste Pelletier has had an attempt made upon her life today. Shots rang out this morning at 6:45 when the girl was on her way to school in the Pigalle neighborhood of Paris. No injuries were reported, and her mother says that she is shaken, but being well taken care of. As this is not the first attack of its kind, United Nations officials are being told to take extra precautions with their loved ones. This is the latest in a series of attacks upon politicians that some are blaming on mutant activism. Fellow Representative Sugden has called it a campaign of terror, and promises it will not keep them from doing what is right._

——

Aaron is eating breakfast in the kitchen, pulling bread straight out of the toaster and leaning against the sprawling granite countertops rather than make a dirty plate, the cool stone calming against his hip bone as he stares off into the distance.

The scent of smoke in the air makes him blink and wince as he pulls out a singed and too hot slice bare fingered. The bitter crunch of burnt crust makes him wrinkle his nose. He’s not much of a cook, even when he’s fully focused on the task at hand and the right timing for bread isn’t at the forefront of his mind this morning.

He sips his tea slowly, thinking about the text he’d received from Cain that morning: _Meet with the boss at warehouse at ten. Address will come once you’re in the car._

He doesn’t know who the boss is, always assumed Cain was pretty high up the chain, but never asked questions. He’s never tried to learn much of the network beyond the few who’ve helped him out in the past. It’s not safe to know too much. If he’s ever caught there are some who would ignore the law to learn more about who is organizing protests, who is working in government offices and feeding out information, and who is behind the recent run of assassination attempts.

There’s been three attempts since the one on Robert, all of them near misses by snipers. The news is full of red-faced pundits screaming about new gun safety laws requiring DNA tests along with background checks. Aaron can’t bring himself to believe it would be a mutant. He can’t understand anyone who would use a gun when they’re powered.

Cain thinks it’s a set up to make Sugden’s bill more widely approved, and Aaron’s inclined to agree. Four children of United Nations security committee members threatened in one month? There’s no way it’s random. He just wishes he knew who’d stoop to shooting at kids.

He doesn’t even know what he’s going to say to this higher up. He knows Robert has powers and doesn’t believe in his own father’s cause, but he can’t imagine how he would bring up the possibility of resistance to him.

Not believing in his father’s ideals doesn’t make Robert someone who’ll betray his family.

He cycles through the few sympathizers and members he does know about for ideas for how to work on Robert. There’s nothing. He hasn’t even heard whispers about a mutant who’d be good for this.

He sighs heavily. He’s not a planner, doesn’t have a mind for schemes and manipulation.

Aaron slumps a little, rubbing his temple as he flicks crumbs off his chest. He’s just a cog, this is too much for him. All he wants is to survive unnoticed and unremarkable. If the government were willing to let them be he would happily fade away into a life of quiet anonymity. Maybe move back to his mum’s village and work at something there.

He could be a farmer, he’s alright with his hands, and dirt likes to listen to him.

He shakes off the idea. He knows he needs an in, but he’s only begun to scratch away at the shiny veneer Robert’s plastered all over himself.

Aaron laughs at how ill-equipped he is for this task. His last relationship, if it could be called that, had ended because Alex had said he wasn’t emotionally available and didn’t work to get to know him at all. He guesses that’s true because the raw moment he shared with Robert in the car last night makes one more than he ever had with Alex.

He sighs heavily, stomach fluttering strangely at that thought.

For a moment Aaron lets himself imagine being open with a man about who he is. Imagines waking up with a strong arm protectively wrapped around his waist. He shakes his head and tilts the dregs of his tea down the drain, washing out his cup.

Everyone knows mutants don’t get happy endings.

——

_Grindr has become the latest dating app to ask members to identify their mutant status and allow other people to block any potential matches with the classification. Mutant rights advocates say that requiring this step only facilitates unfair treatment of mutants and could lead to mutants being lured in to be attacked by vigilantes, but the app’s representatives say they’re trying to protect their users after the gruesome series of Tinder murders by a predatory mutant last month. _

——

Aaron’s pacing an empty warehouse and feeling like he’s in the part of a Guy Ritchie film where everything goes to shit. He’s suddenly aware of how traceable he is, how at risk he is. There’s so many dark corners and entrances to this building. He can’t possibly know he’s in the clear and it’s making him a bit panicky.

He hears a car outside and wills himself in control. This area with its shipping crates and high priced merchandise would be a terrible place to tremble.

The door opens revealing the silhouette of Cain backed by the grey light of London morning. He’s joined by a woman Aaron has never seen before, and knows he’d remember if he had. She looks like she sneezes into handkerchiefs with designer labels.

He’s pretty sure he’s never seen someone look so out of place in a warehouse of auto parts.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, he’s not good at talking to posh women. They make him feel like a worthless chav, and his instinct is to lean into the part.

“Well this certainly feels like a clandestine meeting place, doesn’t it?” Her voice is sharp but laughing, and he feels his nerves uncoil a bit at her acknowledgement of the absurdity.

“Apologies for the dramatics, but I simply could not imagine a convincing location the three of us could meet up in.” She smiles, gesturing between the three of them.

Aaron huffs out a small laugh at Cain’s grumpily offended look.

The woman reaches out her hand, perfectly manicured nails and diamond tennis bracelet on display. “I’m Chrissie White, and I certainly hope you are Aaron Dingle and not some assassin here to take out the leader of the British Mutant Resistance.” She winks at him.

Her name tickles something in the back of his mind. A photo on the society pages that he’s flipped past while searching for the football scores. No wonder she’s not keen to be seen with Dingles.

Aaron shrugs his hand from his pocket and reaches to shake hers. “Still me, as far as I know.”

The moment their hands touch he’s frozen in place, unable to breathe or even blink.

“Excellent, then you won’t mind if I just check to make sure you are who you say you are and not an influenced mimicker?” Her voice travels to his ears, strangely echoing.

He can hear her circle him as he begins to feel light headed, suddenly terribly aware his pulse isn’t moving. He should be panicking, but the adrenaline feels muted. It can’t do anything without a circulatory system to send it coursing through him. It feels like an eternity as she watches his motionless struggle. His vision darkens a bit on the edges.

Just as suddenly as it happens he’s released. He falls to his knees, slamming them into the concrete and bracing himself on his palms as he sucks in air.

“What. The. Fuck.” He grits through his gasps. She’s standing above him, and he wants to make the earth shake beneath her skinny stilettos, but knows he’d never survive long enough to do any damage. Cain comes over and helps him stand. Aaron claws through his memories of mimicry, vaguely aware that the goal is to make them lose hold of their control over surface-layer stem cells.

“Merely a precaution. I’m sure you understand I can never be too careful.” Her shark-like smile turns predatory. “I may look like a pushover, but I can handle myself.”

Aaron’s palms are clammy, tingling with the experience of utter stillness. Every molecule in his body wants to escape this woman. His baser instincts are screaming. He plants his feet and stands his ground.

The side of her mouth turns up as her eyes flick to his stance. “Don’t worry, Aaron. I’m not here to hurt you.”

She puts her hands up in a show of peacefulness. “I hear you have useful information for us, and I wanted to show you we care about the work you’re doing.”

Aaron glances at Cain who has the decency to look apologetic, scratching the back of his neck as he nods for him to begin.

Aaron inhales, silently counting as he slows his heart, trying not to spill over in front of someone with this much to lose.

“Robert Sugden is an influencer, and a strong one.” He says, and she nods him along, clearly unsurprised by his knowledge.

He licks his lips, “His dad doesn’t have any resistance, and as far as I can tell he’s got no idea what his son is.”

Chrissie’s eyes sparkle, “Wonderful!” She turns to Cain, “Well done assigning him.”

Cain nods stiffly, arms crossed.

“For what it’s worth it sounds like he’s not a fan of the bill.” Aaron swallows, “But I still don’t know how to get him to do what we want.”

He can’t say why he keeps Robert’s sexuality to himself, just that he does.

Chrissie steps far closer than Aaron ever wants her, and it takes every fiber of his being to not flinch as she taps him on the nose playfully, “Well, you’ll just have to get closer to him then, won’t you?”

He nods shakily, holding his breath and just wanting her to step away. Hates how helpless he feels in her presence.

She moves back, “And if that doesn’t work? You end them all.” The way she says that with a smile makes Aaron’s stomach turn.

“There are innocent people in the U.N.” The words have barely left his mouth when she’s back in his space, hand hovering in the air between them.

The intensity of her gaze is terrifying, voice harsher than it’s been. “And they’ve killed hundreds of _our_ innocents and want to murder millions more.”

He can feel her breath on his face, the glitter of her earrings shimmer in his peripheral vision. He holds in the shiver that would spread into the concrete below them.

She bites out her words, “This is war, Dingle, and you’re on the front lines.”

——

_A Christchurch man was found not guilty today of the murder of his girlfriend after she revealed to him that she was a mutant. This is the first case in New Zealand where the defendant used the excuse of mutant panic, claiming he is so terrified of mutants that once he had been told her status he was acting in self-defense. A tearful statement was made by her father before the court, claiming his daughter was never a risk to others, and that her power was harmless: the heightened release of endorphins. The attorney representing the victim was quoted as saying that “this sets a dangerous legal precedent in New Zealand” and the only mistake his client ever made was in being “truthful with a dangerous and prejudiced man.”_

——

Aaron returns home from his meeting feeling like he’s run a marathon. His muscles ache from the minute of nothingness Chrissie inflicted. His stomach is turning with the aftereffects of shock.

He arrives back to a nearly empty house. Jack is at a planning conference before the move, Victoria is seeing old friends, and Robert’s at work. Aaron settles himself and takes the chance to slip into Robert’s room to see if he can find something to use to his advantage, grateful there are no security cameras around the bedrooms.

The room is a pleasant blue-green, with large windows and a king sized bed covered in pillows and blankets. Aaron makes a face at the fact that it’s perfectly made, as if Robert is always expecting to bring someone back to it.

It smells like Robert, and Aaron hates that he knows that.

He scans the walls and surfaces, looking for signs of personality. It’s all teak, fashionable copper, and slick modern lines. There’s hair products on one dresser and a few pricey watches on a dish. Tastefully chosen modern art is on the walls, the lamps look purposefully faux-industrial, and a small desk with a laptop on it sits in the corner. One thin shelving unit has some books on the lower shelves and a vintage bar set on the hip height one. Aaron rolls his eyes. Of course Robert Sugden fancies himself James Bond.

It might as well be from a home decor magazine for wealthy bachelors. The only thing that seems out of place is a stack of a few dog-eared books on the nightstand and a framed photograph on the desk of Robert and Victoria, looking young and carefree in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Aaron picks up the photo, looking at the siblings. Robert’s got long hair swept over his forehead, an arm over his sister’s shoulder and a bottle of wine in his hand. He’s laughing as Vic holds a baguette in her mouth, one hand around his waist and the other punching the air in victory. The pink of sunburn over Robert and Victoria’s freckles highlights their similarities, even as he towers over her.

It makes Aaron’s mouth quirk into a smile.

He puts the frame down and walks over to the books that had caught his eye. They’re older, and clearly well-loved: yellowed spines lined with creases and edges wearing down to raw paper. There’s a stamp on the side of each that reads ‘Property of The International School of London Library.’

His breath catches in his throat. Aaron recognizes the name, as any mutant would, as the school that a student leveled years ago with a black hole, killing Sarah Sugden while she was at work, along with the rest of the student body.

Aaron swallows, knowing the only reason the world didn’t end that day was that the young man had died along with them and the anomaly had popped out of existence.

It only now occurs to him that Robert would have been a student at the time, probably only fifteen or so. He opens the first one to the circulation sticker and sees the looping pen strokes of Sarah Sugden’s signature and no return stamp.

There’s a lump in Aaron’s throat and his eyes are burning. He closes the cover carefully, feeling as though he’s crossed a boundary. He doesn’t want to search any more, hates himself for doing it. But he’s got precious little to go on, and time is running out.

There’s nothing but a charging cable, Paracetamol, and condoms in the nightstand. Aaron moves on to the corner, scanning over the elegant pens on top of the desk, making a face at the idea of using an inkwell.

He carefully opens the drawers, finding nothing more interesting than a nice bottle of scotch and a letter opener shoved into the back corner underneath some papers. It has ‘To my son.’ engraved on one side in twirling letters. It screams of Jack Sugden’s taste.

He stands and closes each drawer carefully, pushing himself up off the ground as his knees and back protest the movement.

He ends his hunt by pushing to the back of the closet, checking for hidden safes, and finding none. He’s never seen so many suits. Something about them makes him want to clench the sleeves, his hands leaving wrinkles. He doesn’t.

He steps to the center of the room, crouching to see any new angles, but nothing stands out.

It makes something in him ache, how little there is of Robert in this space. How much flash and performance there is in each selection.

His eyes are drawn back to the small stack of books, finally noticing their titles: _Brave New World_,_ 1984_, _The Dispossessed_, and _Fahrenheit 451_. He’s heard of a few of them, is pretty sure he was meant to read _1984_ in school, but never actually cracked the spine. He makes a mental note to look them up, see why Sarah chose them, and what Robert might love about them.

Aaron makes a final scan of the room, making sure he hasn’t left anything moved from where it was, and quietly walks out the door.

——

_The German government is pushing back against proposals by the European Union to restrict the motion of mutants across borders. The current chancellor has made strong statements in recent weeks about not repeating the mistakes of the past, and has made a commitment to the continued open and free life enjoyed by all German citizens. The country has been lauded by some for its progressive practices: it is one of the few countries to offer schools specifically for young mutants, and has an extensive network of healthcare professionals who specialize in mutant-oriented therapeutic medication and psychiatric help to minimize mutant threat. The expensive and time-consuming approach seems to be working: there have been zero mutant-caused deaths in the last five years, and some groups are working with German experts to create small test cases in other countries. _

——

With only four days until the Sugdens travel across the Atlantic, everyone is on edge. The staff is planning for a month away from home and family, and Jack is working long nights on his detailed and extensive proposal. Aaron’s heard bits and pieces of it: stamps on all mutant passports, mandatory incarceration if powers are deemed a danger to the greater good. It makes his heart race and his hands shake.

Robert’s been a nightmare all day, clearly chafing in the role he is expected to play by his father’s side. He’s decided he needs a new suit for some diplomatic dinner, and Aaron’s waiting by the security team to grab his earpiece.

Graham is stoic as always, watching the controlled chaos of the household. His gaze always feels like it leaves sticky tracks across Aaron’s skin. Jack’s ever-present brooding shadow.

Aaron’s just fit the plastic behind his ear when he hears yelling from the conference room and both he and Graham rush over.

One of Jack’s assistants, Laurel, pushes open the door, tears streaming down her face as Jack’s voice follows behind.

“You’re probably feeding them my whereabouts!” He’s red faced and spitting with anger, trying to push past Graham who has a calming palm on his shoulder.

Graham leans in, half his body blocking the woman from Jack, “Sir, think of the optics.”

He turns his head slightly towards Aaron, “Get her out of here.”

Aaron shepherds a still sobbing Laurel from the room, trying in vain to hear the conversation behind him. He helps her find her bag and coat. With her sniffling less often and no one around, he risks a question.

“So, what happened?”

She looks at him, make-up running a bit around her eyes and nose red from the tissue he’d offered her clumsily.

“My son, Arthur, he’s only twelve, but he tested positive for the mutation at his last checkup. There’s been no sign of any powers or anything, but Mr. Sugden must have overheard me getting the call this morning.” Her mouth turns down at the corners, chin wobbling, “I didn’t know, I swear!”

Aaron remains silent, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from revealing himself in a home where the cameras catch so much.

Laurel’s starting to cry again, “I need this job, and now I won’t even be given a reference for the next one.”

Aaron’s knuckles have gone white. Jack is firing people for being related to suspected mutants and his stomach is dropping because all it will take is a deeper background check to find the autopsy of his father and its accompanying tests.

Graham’s smart enough that he might even notice that the stab wounds were child height.

“What am I going to tell him?” Laurel’s not asking him, just looking up at the ceiling helplessly.

He swallows, searching for comforting words he’s not qualified to give, but is saved by Robert coming down the stairs above them.

“What’s this, then?” He’s looking back and forth between Aaron and Laurel.

“Your father sacked me because my son’s tested positive.” She says with passion through renewed tears.

Robert freezes his descent, tightening his grip on the banister, mouth agape.

Jack strides in and turns to Aaron, pointing at Laurel, “What is she still doing here?”

Aaron straightens, tries to look innocent of whatever this tempest of a man wants to accuse him of, “Sorry Sir. I was just calling her a cab.”

“It’s fine Aaron, I’ll find my own way home.” Laurel’s quiet voice is shaking. “I need the walk anyway.”

She composes herself, opens the door, and slips out onto the street.

Before the front lock clicks Jack is already turning to Graham, “I want the whole house checked. I won’t travel with muts or their relatives.”

The echoing torrent of blood in Aaron’s ears feels deafening.

“You can’t!” Robert’s voice cuts through Aaron’s panic. Too loud, too intense.

To Aaron he looks terrified for a blink until he settles himself, voice honey-sweet “I mean, the press would have a field day with that. A government official the first to profile based on relatives? No one would take you seriously. You’d be branded a reactionary, not the visionary you are.”

The twisting whirl of Robert’s influence is, for the first time, a comfort. Aaron can almost see it worming its way into Jack’s subconscious.

Robert turns his focus to Graham, the slide of pheromones whirling around him. “Tell him, Graham. He’d be putting an end to his bill before it even goes public. No other member would want to look like an ally to someone so unpredictable.”

Aaron watches Graham, having never considered if the man is someone to be concerned about, but also knows he’ll learn next to nothing from his acquiescence, as it was clear in the other room Graham wanted to prevent a scene.

Distracted by his thoughts, Aaron can feel the pull of influence trying to get around his defenses. He can’t tell what Robert wants from him without letting it in more, and he’s not about to do something as foolish as that.

The room is thick with Robert’s power by the time Jack’s jaw unclenches, his shoulders relaxing as he sees the reason in Robert’s words.

“Right. The bill is the most important thing now. I can’t jeopardize it.” He looks at Graham, who nods in response.

Jack’s back straightens, back to being the strategic politician. “Graham, find a good reason for firing Mrs. Thomas. I don’t want her running to the papers with a sob story.”

The cool detachment in his voice makes Aaron sick.

When Jack Sugden leaves the foyer Aaron wants to sigh in relief, but holds his breath, chest burning with the effort. Robert, on the other hand, exhales shakily and sits down on the stairs, face in his hands.

Aaron can’t let on that he knows why Robert’s so invested, so he remains quiet and stands at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for a signal.

After some deep breaths the air in the room is clearer, Robert having stopped the push. Aaron thinks it’s safe to break the silence, so he clears his throat.

Robert starts, clearly having forgotten he’s not alone. He’s pale, the freckles across his nose and cheeks standing out more than Aaron’s accustomed to.

“Sugden, we still buyin’ you yet another suit?” He aims for teasing, hoping to pull him out of his panic.

Robert’s eyes crinkle at the side as he swallows a smile. He draws himself up and arches an eyebrow. “I think I’ll need at least two.”

He pauses for effect, ever the showman. “And Dingle? You’re carrying the bags.”

——

_With fewer employment options under the latest mutant regulations in South Africa, more are turning to illegal sex work as a place to mask, or even utilize, their powers. A raid on a brothel in Johannesburg yesterday ended with a public relations disaster for the police department as three police officers came under the influence of the powers, turning on their coworkers. A further four began removing clothing and attempted to seduce each other. In a statement given after the fact, the chief of police apologized for her employee’s lack of preparedness and protection from such attacks. All future enforcement will be done while in gas masks and other technology with the goal to disable the mutant workers before entering._

——

It’s only once they’re in the car that Robert begins to look less brittle, color returning beneath his freckles and his jawline relaxing. Aaron decides to let him be, knows how hollow it can feel after using power that intensely.

They arrive at the High Street and Aaron is almost relieved to feel the familiar dread of something innocuous rather than the constant threat of extermination, but then he sees the eager glint in Robert’s eyes as he scans the fabrics and he knows he’d far rather be fifteen and hiding from patrols after fighting with some local kids and losing himself to the quake than in this place.

He considers begging to just stay outside, but Robert’s ushering him in the door and Aaron doesn’t want to cause a scene, not when Robert’s just come back to himself.

A woman instantly recognizes Robert and rushes over, kissing him on both cheeks.

“Robert! To what do I owe the pleasure?” She’s got a hand on Robert’s bicep and she’s standing far too close to be professional in Aaron’s opinion.

Robert leans down a bit, moving even more into her personal space and making Aaron bristle.

“Well Leyla, I’ve got a dinner and two big meetings to attend in New York, and I want to show off the best that London has to offer.” He’s all charm and swagger, practically purring into her ear.

The next eternity is all swatches and color combinations and Aaron’s sitting in a chair with his head in his hands as Robert’s having his measurements checked. The tailor Leyla’s brought in is recommending different cuts and vents and button numbers and Aaron wants to scream.

“Alright, now that we know what you’re thinking, should we try on a few pieces so we can start the alterations?” The tailor asks from where he’s marking down his measurements.

Aaron can’t silence his groan of despair fast enough.

Robert meets his eyes in the mirror, smirking as if he’s won something by wringing Aaron’s misery from him. “Sounds perfect. I’d love to try something in maroon, with plum undertones.”

The tailor nods, turning away to grab a few items, and Robert begins unbuttoning his shirt. Aaron suddenly doesn’t know where to look because there are mirrors with Robert at their focal point everywhere. He settles with examining his lightly scuffed work shoes intently.

When he hazards a glance up, he’s met with what seems like miles of freckled skin. Robert is standing confidently in just his briefs and mulling over two pairs of trousers that are, as far as Aaron can tell, identical. Aaron lets himself have a moment where he tracks across the curve of Robert’s spine and the swell of his arse. His gaze drifts lower to thighs dotted with freckles and he has a flash where he wonders if they’d be strong enough to hold him up against a wall. His cheeks color at the image and he flicks his eyes over to Robert’s face, sighing in relief that he’s not been caught.

Robert finally chooses, shrugging on a pale blue dress shirt and pulling up the trousers, hiding his distractions away.

Aaron slouches, resting his head against the back of the chair, and wishes he had ceiling tiles to count, or even a credible threat to analyze. Leyla and Robert are bickering back and forth about something and he’s chosen to completely ignore them.

“Dingle. Help me out here.” Robert draws him out of his silence.

Aaron sits up, knowing he’s about to hate whatever he’s being asked.

Leyla is pouting in a way he’s sure straight men would find alluring. “I’m just telling Robert here that he looks gorgeous in grey, and should consider some graphite or slate shirts. Don’t you agree?”

She looks at him pleadingly.

Aaron frowns, unsure of what he’s supposed to be giving an opinion about. “Er, grey’s alright?”

“That settles it. I’m not buying anything he endorses.” Robert smirks, meeting Aaron’s eyes in the mirror. Aaron wants to make a face at him, but settles on rolling his eyes.

Leyla throws up her hands in defeat as the tailor finalizes the pins on Robert’s cuff. They seem to be wrapping up, and Aaron feels a glimmer of hope that he might not die of boredom in a suit shop.

While Robert’s flirting his way into a steep discount without any need for his power and making a plan for when he’ll pick the rest of his items up, Aaron calls for the car. He’s looking at his phone for the notification from the driver when Robert bumps him with his elbow, bags of shirts and ties outstretched.

“I ain’t carrying your shopping, mate.” Aaron growls without too much bite.

Robert’s lips quirk to the side. “That’s not what we agreed on.” There’s something warm and teasing in his tone that Aaron’s not heard directed at him before.

Aaron’s ready to detail to him what agreements are when his phone beeps and he brushes past Robert to head out the door instead, pointedly side stepping the bags Robert has extended.

Robert laughs good-naturedly, gathering up his things, making Aaron smile while he’s still got his back to the other man.

They get into the car and Robert’s looking at his phone. Aaron can see he’s texting with his sister about the new items he bought. They’re stopped at a light, and Aaron’s staring out the window. A woman is walking down the street holding a young boy’s hand and doing her best to look interested and animated about whatever he’s babbling about.

Aaron feels something bubbling up inside him, threatening to come out without his permission.

“Bit shit of your dad to fire a woman for having a kid like that.” He wants to clap a hand over his mouth, but once it’s out he knows there’s nothing to be done.

Aaron can’t leave well enough alone. His mum’s always on him for it.

Robert freezes mid word, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

“Nobody asked for your opinion, Dingle.” The bitter bite of Robert’s words could leave cuts across Aaron’s face.

Aaron can’t understand why Robert’s jumping to his father’s defense. “I just—”

Robert twists his body towards Aaron, leaning across the seat between them, forcing Aaron to pull backwards slightly. “He’s trying to save the world from mutants. They tried to kill me, Aaron. They killed my mum.”

His voice cracks a bit on the vowel in mum.

“He’s got nowt to do with that. He’s just a boy.” Aaron’s thinking of himself at eight, barely able to understand why he creates such damage when he visits his mum, outside of the ever present control of Gordon.

Robert seems to deflate at that, drawing in on himself. “It doesn’t matter. Even if they don’t know their power, they can be deadly.”

They come to a stop and Robert’s out the door before Aaron can respond.

——

_The Pope made a statement from the Vatican today about how Catholics should view mutant existence, stating that being a mutant “is not a sin” but that parents who begin “seeing rare things” in their children should “please, consult, and go to a professional,” as the church sees mutant abilities as something to be suppressed at all costs. “Giving in to the desire to use an unnatural ability is giving in to temptation, and mutants who resist for their entire lives should be admired for the depth and quality of their faith.” _

——

Aaron’s days have been overrun by meetings with Graham and the rest of the security team, looking at photos and blueprints of the townhouse the Sugdens will be staying at in New York. It’s more secure than their current home; designed to house visiting dignitaries and other government officials. Something in Aaron unwinds at the thought of sleeping secure.

They spend hours looking at and critiquing maps of their paths to and from the U.N. building. The density of the city may leave the family open to attacks, but it also gives them a thin veil of anonymity. Almost no one in Manhattan cares about the members of the U.N. Security Council. They have actual celebrities to glance at while strolling down the street.

Aaron’s already cross referenced the location of the house with the train system that lies beneath so much of the city. He knows where he can spill over stress masked by the rumbles of the carriages if he absolutely needs to. He’s already mentally prepared himself for the strain of control, however, too worried about the high rises that fill every block.

Jack walks into these planning meetings often, pulling Graham out to decide on some aspect of the agenda. He’s more on edge each time Aaron sees him, his consonants more and more clipped as he tries to hold himself together in front of the staff.

Aaron’s overheard enough of their conversations to know that Jack has been struggling to get a confirmation of support from the majority of the fifteen members of the security council. The members whose families were threatened are mostly with him, but the others refuse to give away their positions.

It’s putting them both on edge, Aaron for once on the same page as Jack.

Robert’s New York plans seem to revolve around restaurants and clubs. He’s also got some clients that he wants to meet face to face to convince them to hand over more of their assets. Aaron rolls his eyes behind Robert’s back at that, hating how freely he can use his power while Aaron bottles it up inside him, squeezing it into every nook and cranny in his chest so as to stay hidden.

The ways in which powers are so wildly unfair hurts. He didn’t ask to be this way. His cousin Belle induces a low level euphoria. Everyone loves to sit by her and soak in the sense that everything will be alright in the end. As a child his own parents couldn’t handle it. They’d had to walk away from him sitting on the beach as his wails and pushes were swallowed up by sand and saltwater.

Aaron huffs out a small sigh. Feeling sorry for himself doesn’t solve any problems.

His phone buzzes with news from Cain: _American contact will be sent once you land. _

Aaron doesn’t know anyone over there, but he’s not surprised someone like Chrissie White does. He’s looked her up, face familiar, but no real sense of anything notable except that she comes from money. Her father’s some business big shot, her sister is a bohemian wannabe with a travel Instagram and a style blog. Chrissie runs in high society circles. She was at a recent charity event where he was Robert’s shadow. She’d taken a photo with Robert and some other local business owner.

Aaron shudders that he hadn’t even noticed her. Wonders how many people stand near someone so deadly every day without any idea.

Even mutants fear mutants.

——

_Another moment out of a disaster movie was caused by a mutant today, on a cruise ship headed to Nova Scotia. The Royal Caribbean Cruise was only two hundred miles from its destination when a mutant woman created a breach in the hull that caused it to sink. Thankfully the staff was well prepared, and only minor injuries occurred. The woman’s boyfriend told reporters that she had a panic attack caused by her seasickness, and ruptured the side of their cabin trying to escape. She has not been seen since she dove into the water, and officials have begun search and rescue operations. Royal Caribbean has stated that if she is found they will bring charges against her, as is their right under Canadian law when mutant powers cause damage._

——

They leave the day after tomorrow and Robert announces he has ‘important errands’ to run. Aaron loses the silent game of Rock Paper Scissors he plays in the hallway with Pete and resigns himself to a day hunting down some poncy hair gel.

Robert’s talking to the driver before Aaron even makes it out the door, and Aaron wants to chastise him for violating protocol, but they’ve barely spoken since Robert defended his father, and Aaron needs to make the first peace offering if he’s ever going to change his mind.

Robert’s silent and cold in the car, shoulders angled at the window in an effort to ignore Aaron’s presence.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to realize they’re not headed towards the High Street, and he tenses, mentally running through the background he has on today’s driver. Bob’s been working for the family for years, never had any issues apart from being a wildly annoying chatterbox.

It occurs to Aaron that Bob’s uncharacteristically somber today, and that concerns him even more. Maybe he’s been recruited to do something he can’t clear his conscience of.

He needs to play on his heartstrings, get him to change his mind. “Bob, where’re we headed?”

Robert’s head turns to him, interrupting anything Bob’s about to say with a harsh, “I’m saying goodbye to someone.”

His voice is unused and gravelly, and Aaron’s struck by how he missed the sound of it.

Settled by the fact that Robert’s planned this, and not some rogue group, Aaron relaxes slightly. He’s annoyed that he wasn’t given any notice, but Robert’s been in a mood all morning and if this helps he’s willing to deal.

They’ve been driving for long enough to leave the city proper when they stop at a small florist. Aaron goes in alongside Robert, scrunching his face as his nose is assaulted by the intensity of the blooms. The shopkeep seems to recognize Robert, sharing quiet pleasantries as he selects flowers without Robert needing to request anything in particular.

Aaron stands silent as Robert buys a massive yellow bouquet, and even holds it when Robert fishes out his wallet to pay.

He can’t say he’s excited to meet some old flame of Robert’s that matters enough to buy something that pricey, but there’s something in him that needs to know who could capture his attention this intently.

They continue driving past the larger estates he had assumed they were headed to, and into the quieter countryside. Aaron can’t imagine who Robert knows who lives out here. He’s about to ask when they begin following a stone wall to a set of metal gates that open onto a cemetery.

Robert’s kept his eyes on the scenery until now. When Aaron looks over he’s brushing non-existent dirt off his slacks and checking the bouquet nervously, turning it around to examine the blooms.

Aaron wants to put his hand on his shoulder, but instead busies himself unbuckling his belt and walking around the car, scanning the area. Robert gets out as well, eyes down, head tilted away from Aaron.

Aaron stands back, lets him wind through gravestones on his own. Robert stands in front of a simple one, places the flowers on it, and wrings his hands, settling with shoving them into his pockets.

“Hi mum.” His voice is small and broken.

Aaron backs away, tries to be respectful of his space, but he can still hear Robert’s small sniffle.

Aaron looks around and finds a small stone bench not too far away. He can keep an eye on the surroundings and still see Robert. He settles in, wanting to give him as much time as he needs with his mum.

Robert’s talking quietly, gesturing a bit with his elbows as his hands stay in his suit pockets. His shoulders are curved down, head bowed.

Aaron’s watching Bob lean against the car playing on his phone, when Robert walks over, eyes red rimmed. He moves to stand, but instead Robert sits next to him, sighing and bracing his elbows on his knees, back curved.

They sit in silence, wind rustling through the trees and the noise of an occasional passing car the only thing they can hear.

“I don’t think she’d like who I am.”

It’s barely breathed out, so soft Aaron almost thinks he’s imagined it. Robert turns his head to him and smiles in his wry self-deprecating way.

Aaron’s heart breaks for the man sat next to him. All he’s ever heard about Sarah Sugden was that she was a good woman who wanted to help mutants and was murdered by one. In the last few nights, he’s skimmed the summaries of the books she’d left, full of governments that control their citizens and remove their humanity. He feels like he’s gotten to know her through these glimpses. Guesses that Robert thinks the same.

“I think she’d love you.” The words tumble out, louder than Robert’s.

Robert frowns in surprise.

Aaron’s throat feels raw, like he’s given something away that he shouldn’t, and tries to backtrack. “She’s a mum, ain’t she? She’d think you were amazing.”

He tries to catch Robert’s eye, quirks his lips into a small smile, “Even when you’re a prat.”

Robert huffs out a quiet laugh, leaning into the back rest, “She loved to let me know when I was being horrible.”

“Well, she’d have her work cut out for her. With all of yous.” Aaron teases gently.

Robert nods, smiling distantly, then stares over to the headstone. There’s a long stretch of silence, Aaron watching Robert’s profile while he seems years away, lost in thought.

“He’d have never gone this far with her around.” Robert says in a low, but clear tone.

Aaron swallows, tongue-tied by the admission of Jack’s increasing erraticism.

“She always kept him balanced.” Robert still hasn’t looked away from the grave. “Made him see that mutants are human.”

“Sounds like a good woman.” Aaron’s digging his nails into his thighs with how much he wants to reach over and comfort Robert.

Wants to tell him that his genetics don’t make him inhuman no matter what his father says.

Robert finally tears his eyes away from the middle distance he’s been staring into, turning and seemingly focusing on Aaron for the first time.

“She was the best of us.” His voice is thick with emotion, but Aaron can’t tell which one.

Robert stands hurriedly, and Aaron can see him shutting out the openness of the last few moments, so he reacts unthinkingly, rising, reaching out and lightly wrapping around Robert’s wrist with his fingers.

Robert looks down at where his hand is pressing into the bones, mouth slightly open.

“I think she’d be proud of ya, Robert.”

Robert looks up, green eyes meeting Aaron’s blue ones, slight tinge of blush on his cheeks and eyes glassy with emotion. There’s a pause that feels heavy and long, his eyes searching Aaron’s for something.

Eventually he nods shakily, as if he’s trying to believe Aaron’s words himself.

Aaron uncurls his grip, feels his palm go cold where he’s no longer touching the thin skin stretched over bone. Robert takes a small step back, eyes nervously flitting over to the car where Bob’s engrossed in whatever game he’s got on his screen.

Aaron offers a small smile he hopes is reassuring.

Robert returns the smile shakily. He looks lighter than he has in days as he walks back to the car, some of the swagger returning to his step. They climb back into the car, air clearer.

“Where to?” Bob asks, twisting in his seat to look at Robert.

“There’s a good fish and chip shop down the road. How ‘bout lunch, my treat?” He claps Aaron on the shoulder, and Aaron can’t tell if he imagines the hand lingering a beat too long.

He swallows down the spike of want that the large hands spanning his shoulder evoke, and looks at his phone to a text from Cain.

_Any news?_

He freezes, uncertain what he wants to send back. He looks at Robert, who’s chatting with Bob about the cricket match that he’d been watching, admires the way his expressive gestures fill the space of the car. Feels his chest constrict. Types back words that will keep Cain from asking questions, no matter how much of a lie they’re becoming.

_Nothing of note._

——

_American universities are closing their campuses in Abu Dhabi and Dubai after a government crackdown on mutants in the United Arab Emirates made it impossible for students to live there while their genetic status is untested. New York University president has made a statement that the school is unwilling to continue to send students into an environment that would force them to reveal information that is medically protected under HIPAA. This decision comes only after a long protest by current students and alumni, who drew attention to the dangers faced by mutant students in countries with high mutant death rates. _

——

Aaron is getting dressed to go to some elite restaurant and stand next to the table for an hour while Robert and his sister eat a celebratory goodbye to London dinner that costs more than his mum’s pub brings in on a weekend. It’s pissing rain outside and all Aaron wants to do is stay in and sleep before the day of travel tomorrow, but what the Sugdens want, they get. His and Robert’s relationship has warmed considerably since their talk, but he’s still a prat when he wants to be.

Pete’s had his night off taken from him to act as Victoria’s guard, and they’re expected to head out in twenty. He’s wrestling with the awkward angle of his wrist button when there’s a knock on his door. He looks down at his still open and untucked shirt and sighs, giving up on his cuffs as he goes to let Pete in.

Robert stands there in a sleep-soft T-shirt and relaxed joggers, radiating comfort yet somehow still more put together than Aaron. Aaron frowns and crosses his arms over his bare chest, feeling simultaneously over and under dressed for this conversation. How does Robert always put him off kilter just when he feels like he’s settled into their new dynamic?

He can feel the way Robert’s eyes linger on his torso before he meets Aaron’s eyes, mouth a little open. He licks his lips before speaking, “Vic’s decided she wants a night in, so you’re on takeaway duty.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, grateful to not have to stand at attention in a chic bistro, but not enough to become a meal delivery service. “Sounds like you’re on takeaway duty and you’re fobbing it off on me.”

Robert cocks his hip, swaying a bit, “C’mon, if I have to go get it you’ll have to come protect me anyways, so why should both of us have to face this weather?” His voice is teasing.

He does have a point, and there’s something to be said for some time away from Robert. He’s starting to worm his way into Aaron’s subconscious. The only thing he remembers about his dreams from the night before are freckled skin and laughing eyes.

Doesn’t mean he’ll make it easy, though. “Or, how ‘bout you just call someone to bring it here? Then neither of us have to go.”

Robert rolls his eyes, “Vic’s got her heart set on this place that doesn’t deliver.” He tilts his head a little, looking at Aaron through long lashes, voice nearly a purr, “There’s a curry in it for you...”

Aaron feels the way his blush is spreading to his chest, knows that Robert could notice it, and wants to get out of this conversation with some dignity. He refuses to be turned on by the way Robert says curry.

“Fine, but yer also buying me some naan.” He pauses, “And once I’m back, I’m off duty. For the whole night. No late night snack runs, yous two are on your own.”

Robert’s playful grin is annoyingly bright. Aaron needs him to leave, to tone down his brilliance for a moment so he can gather himself, can be objective with his assignment.

He gestures for Robert to go away. “Go on, call in your order, and I’ll get dressed.”

Robert steps back, then looks him up and down, doing nothing to mask his slow perusal of Aaron’s body. Aaron hates how it sets his skin on fire. There’s a moment of triumph when Robert makes eye contact again and his eyes are dark, Aaron feeling less alone in his weakness for the other man.

“Good idea, you wouldn’t want to give all of London a free show.” He turns and walks down the hall to Vic’s room.

Aaron shuts his door and leans his back against it. He wants to throttle him: Robert Sugden the incorrigible flirt, an absolute menace.

He’s going to drive him mad.

——

_Airports across the world have added extra security measures this month in order for passengers to feel safe from terrorism when flying. The new sensors record more biometric data than ever before, hoping to catch measurable changes in everything from body heat to radioactivity. Some terminals have been equipped with dogs trained to sniff out stress pheromones, which scientists say can be an early warning sign of a mutant episode. As of yet, no arrests have been made from these new measures, but the company funding the new sensors, BioMutrix, claims the new technology relies upon machine learning, and will only continue to improve as early detectors of mutant behavior._

——

They’ve made it through what should be the worst part of the day: ten people’s luggage fully searched, checked, and stored. Aaron holds his breath through each checkpoint, grateful the entourages of politicians get pre-checked clearance so he’s not walking through the sensitive scanners time and time again. It’s hectic with the whole team: Graham’s new counterpart on Jack’s team, Joe, has joined Aaron and Pete as the security detail for the flight, and the other team members will meet them on site.

They’re in a luxury lounge waiting for boarding to be called, the security team getting a moment to relax and caffeinate before the long flight. Aaron’s buzzing a bit, anxious to be done with the travel. He’s kept quiet about this being his first time in a plane, so he desperately wants the day done with already.

He’s the only one who seems bothered by the trip: Jack is sitting with his team looking over paperwork calmly, and Vic is pushed up against Robert’s side, eating a fruit plate and scanning the pages of the magazine he’s reading. Aaron sips his tea, idly watching the pair of siblings.

They’d watched some old musical last night, belting along to the tunes together. Robert had blushed when Aaron’d arrived with their dinner, large hand holding a glass of wine and in the middle of a shimmying dance on the couch.

“It smiles!” Joe cuts into the memory, and Aaron’s face immediately drops. They’ve only interacted a few times since he was hired, he’s mostly out with Jack at events, but he leaves a sour taste in Aaron’s mouth with each meeting.

Aaron shoots him a glare over his tea. “Was just remembering back when you weren’t around.”

Tate looks affronted, ready to start something.

“Leave ‘im, Tate. He’s not a morning person.” Pete manages to get out around his giant bite of eggs.

Aaron’s never been happier to hear a boarding announcement. He’s never heard one outside of films, this being his first time inside an airport, but he’s still glad for the distraction from the living sneer that is Joe Tate.

Boarding the plane through the bridge is unnerving. The ground is flimsy, the air feels stale, and the noise of the machines on the tarmac is ever-present. The flight attendants are far too chipper, and Aaron can feel himself getting more on edge as they walk down the aisle.

They’re in business class, each security member sitting on the aisle next to their assignment as a way to protect them from the possibility of passing attackers. Aaron eyes the roomy seats and small divider table between them and is grateful he won’t have one arm pressed up tight against Robert like he would in economy.

He stands in the aisle while Robert slides into the window seat, nervously tapping on the divider that just barely blocks their two seats from the eyes of the rest of the plane. Once he’s all settled Aaron moves in as well, feeling the odd push of canned air coming at him from the ceiling vent.

He settles into his seat, wrapped in the faux comfort of luxury, and tries to calm his racing heart. Robert’s already shut his window and is unfolding the provided blanket.

Aaron stands up, pulling his headphones out from his case in the overhead compartment, and grimaces at how he’s already tingling with nerves. He’s never been to America, never even been out of the U.K. except for a couple trips to France when he was in his early twenties and had the hots for a rugby player who’d been willing to show him around in exchange for some frantic post-match fucks.

It is not the right time for those memories, so he sits, putting his arm onto the shared table as he tries to find himself some grounding. He glances over to where Robert’s settled and poking through the movie options on his screen, headphones firmly in. Aaron hopes they mask the sound of his panic. He looks for too long, and Robert must feel it, because he catches Aaron’s eye and takes out one earbud questioningly.

“Alright?”

Aaron bites his lip, tries to look assured and knows he fails. “Yeah. Just don’t love flying.”

Robert studies him for a second, eyes sweeping over his face. “Once we’re in the air we can get you a scotch.”

He winks, knocking his elbow into Aaron’s tense forearm. “I won’t tell anyone you’re drinking on the job if you won’t spill about all the embarrassing telly I’m about to binge.”

That pulls a laugh from Aaron, and he manages to calm down as the security information begins.

He’s feeling fine by the time they begin to taxi, and Robert stops sneaking worried glances at him. Then they begin to accelerate and Aaron can feel the exact moment he’s no longer in contact with the ground.

He’s untethered, and it occurs to him that if he has an episode in the air the only thing he’ll be able to do is shake the plane apart.

The airplane around him feels flimsy and vulnerable, his own control suddenly the only thing standing between him and the deaths of everyone on board. That thought does nothing to prevent the rising pressure on his ribcage. He’s not enough to save them all, he’s too weak.

He feels clammy everywhere, and his breathing has started to become a little erratic. He knows he should do what a therapist recommended years ago: find a focal point and pull in on the rising waves of terror, but he can’t find anything in his mind as he sees the ground disappear through other seat’s windows.

His mind begins to race through the worst outcomes it can imagine. He’s going to out himself and the whole mutant world will suffer from his utter uselessness. He feels hot all over, but his skin is prickling with goose pimples as if he’s freezing. His grip on the plastic tightens, turning his knuckles white as he struggles to draw in the next breath, head back as he gasps quietly.

Robert’s hand covers his own, and Aaron starts, jerking his head towards the man.

“Aaron. Look at me. I think you’re having a panic attack. You need to calm down.” He’s whispering underneath the sound of the plane, trying not to draw others’ eyes over to them.

Aaron can feel the push of Robert’s influence on the edges of his mind. The small space they share is full of his pheromones. He still can’t inhale. His heart is beating wildly, thunderous in his ears even with the sounds of the plane around them.

He does the only thing he can think of: he gives in. Lets Robert’s command wash over him, gives in to the call to calm.

“Breathe. You can do this.” Robert’s voice feels like it’s in his bones, silencing every panicking instinct. It doesn’t feel anything like what he felt as a child; none of the sticky suffocation like duct tape on his abilities. Robert’s influence is like a swaddling blanket around his nerves, valuing and protecting them as he calms them.

He inhales, counting slowly, then exhales for the same count.

He searches inside, feels for the boiling fizzing of his power, but it’s settling into something manageable.

He finds Robert’s eyes, nodding shakily, tries to give him assurance that the worst has passed.

It’s some relief that Robert looks as wrung out as Aaron feels. They hold each other’s gaze while Aaron takes three more controlled breaths.

“Don’t love flying, eh?” Robert tries to joke quietly.

Aaron feels the blush on his cheeks, “Well, it’s definitely not my favorite pastime.”

He can feel Robert’s chuckle in his hand. He realizes Robert hasn’t let go, but doesn’t look down for fear that he will. His hands are warm and assuring, pheromones still seeping into Aaron’s skin where they touch.

The sound of the flight attendant making her way down the aisle with drinks startles Robert, who hastily brings his hand back to his side of the barrier between them. Aaron waits for the panic to return without Robert’s influence, but his mind feels clear, the tenuous grasp he usually has on his power feels sure in a way it never has before. He knows without a doubt that he could go days without a tremor.

He’s never felt so settled in his own skin.

“Drinks, gentlemen?”


	2. Fault

_ _

_Two mutant women were beaten to death on their walk home from a club last night in Ibiza. The assailants were a group of five men who had bought drinks for the women according to the bartender of Es Paradís. Witnesses say the women chatted for a bit, but refused the men’s advances. The men claim that when they went after them to chat more, the women became violent and attacked them in a powered manner. Ibiza law does allow the use of deadly force in cases of self defense against mutants. No word from the women’s families yet as to what their powers were, but according to one’s public Facebook page, she was an empath._

——

Aaron is pulling two bags up the steep stone steps in front of the brick townhouse they’re occupying for the next month and cursing the Sugden name. Robert brought three checked bags and Victoria packed not only a full bag of shoes, but her complete set of chef knives for her internship at Gramercy Tavern. 

His phone is buzzing non stop in his pocket, but he doesn’t have the hands to deal with it. He’s freezing and exhausted. The combination of the emotional fall out of his panic attack, his inability to sleep despite Robert snoring next to him, and the bitter cold of New York in November is doing his head in.

He checks in on his power, worried the anger will trigger him, but finds it just as controlled as it is after a full unloading into the rich damp earth of Emmerdale. He steals a glance at Robert who is leaning against a dark wooden pillar in the front hall, scrolling through his phone.

“Oy, you could help?” Aaron grits through his teeth.

Robert looks up, slouching further against the wood, looking Aaron up and down, “Looks like you’ve got it handled. Wouldn’t want to be in the way.”

Pete pushes in through the door laden somehow with three bags draped across his torso and one in each hand. He’s pink cheeked and smiling, invigorated by the chill. “Don’t bother yourself, Mr. Sugden. We’ve got this well in hand.”

Joe squeezes in behind, making a face at Pete behind his back. He’s carrying only his bag, a side satchel, and a briefcase that belongs to Jack Sugden. Aaron’s already over his attitude and he’s only known him for two days.

Aaron’s about to open his mouth to tell Robert off, when Jack comes in with Graham, looks at the stacks of luggage, and snaps at Robert. “Son, get your things into your room. They can’t just stay here being a hindrance to everyone.”

Robert’s teasing smile and easy stance melt away, a crueler sneer and brittly cocky pose replacing them. “I rather like them here, I think.” He gestures around, “They tie the room together.”

Jack rubs his temples, moving towards Robert, voice low but audible to anyone listening. “Don’t test me. I’ve got too much on to deal with your attitude today.”

“Sir, we’ve got a meeting.” Graham cuts into the argument, placing himself in between Jack and Robert and drawing his focus away from the brewing fight.

Jack collects himself instantly, “Right, of course.”

He turns to the men still laden with luggage, looking through them to Joe, “Shall we?”

Joe shrugs off his bag onto the case next to him, pushing it at Aaron. “Of course, sir. Dingle here was just offering to take my things to my room so I could head out with you.”

Aaron looks at the ceiling, willing the gaudy light fixtures to dislodge and kill the man in a freak accident.

Jack doesn’t even notice, staring at his phone as he gets ready for whatever he’s off to, “Right.” He’s out the door in a moment, Joe and Graham right behind him.

Aaron and Robert sigh in unison, catching each other’s eyes. Aaron allows a small smile to ghost across his face until he feels one of the bags start to slip off his shoulder. He’s occupied with catching it between his arm and his knee, awkwardly trying to nudge it back up without letting one of the wheeled bags in each hand tip over backwards.

Robert’s suddenly right there, pulling the strap up and back onto his shoulder, warm hands smoothing it needlessly. He’s close, body heat radiating up and down Aaron’s arm, thumb anchoring the bag.

They stand there, too close to be proper, for too long to be mates.

Aaron phone buzzes again, Robert near enough to hear it, maybe even close enough to feel it as it passes up to his shoulder. It wakes them both up from their moment, Aaron tensing beneath his hand. Robert definitely feels that and starts back, glancing around at the bags and grabbing two of his own.

“Let’s get these upstairs. I don’t want my suits getting too wrinkled.”

Aaron tries for normalcy, “As if you’d notice. Yer gonna send them out anyways.”

Robert’s already climbing the stairs, giving Aaron a view that he can’t tear himself away from. The fabric of his shirt pulling across his strong back, and the slacks cut perfectly for his bum. His voice is mock insulted and full of laughter, “Because I actually care for my clothes, I don’t just wear the same black Primark trousers every day.”

“ASOS.” Aaron mutters grumpily as they make their way to the second floor, dragging rolling suitcases uncomfortably up the staircases. There are four rooms on that level, two on each side of the hall. From their briefings Aaron knows he and Robert are on one side, Pete and Vic the other. Jack and his team will be on the third and fourth stories.

Aaron looks at the room he knows to be his, sees the door is only feet from Robert’s, and for the first time considers the reality that they’ll be sharing a wall. His stomach drops. Since he started working for the family, Robert’s been a bit too busy for much. But he’s brought home a couple women, and Aaron doesn’t know what he would do if he had to bear that now.

Robert turns, hip jutting out to offset the pull of his bags. “Well, this is me.”

Aaron rolls his eyes at the cheesy line, shoving the rolling bag in his left hand out. “Here.”

“A little help?” Robert makes a face, gesturing with his full bags as Aaron uses his newly freed hand to open his door.

“Still not yer maid, mate.”

——

_Researches at BioMutrix have developed the world’s first mutant suppressant gas rounds to combat mutant protestors when they get violent. The canisters contain a highly concentrated and aerosolized new form of Remifentanil, a drug that has been used to sedate patients for surgery, and was in the news years ago as the chemical agent in the Moscow Theater hostage crisis. The company claims the newly synthesized form targets mutants specifically, although how is a highly protected trade secret. This news comes after police and mutants clashed in the streets of Florence after a sit in by students turned violent. Police were leveled by a student able to produce shockwaves after one of them hit him across the face with a baton. _

——

Once Aaron has put his clothing into his closet and unpacked his toiletry bag, he changes into warm layers of running gear, deciding to put on a bobble hat after he glances outside at the leafless trees and sees the way the wind is buffeting passersby.

He’s had a text from Cain with a name and an address for a park. He knows he’s looking for Nicky in an orange cap. He shoots one back saying he’ll be in black with the hat on.

Cain texts back quickly: _Black? What a surprise. _Aaron smiles at his phone. It’s rare recently that he can see his uncle Cain in the texts, not some hard man from a spy film.

He has his headphones firmly lodged in his ears, but has nothing playing on them so he can focus on his surroundings while seeming unapproachable. Pete makes no move to stop him as he slips out the front door.

He’s got about an hour to find the park, meet this contact, and then run enough that his cover is believable. The easy jog to the park feels strange, his body recognizing for the first time how different the land is here. The spaces under him feel hollow and echoey, full of tunnels and basements and pipes.

He’s going to have to watch himself carefully here, there’s so much to shake loose. Looming buildings looking delicate even with their monumental size.

His mind flashes back to the feel of Robert’s hand on the back of his own. Somehow calmed by the memory.

It’s only ten minutes before he arrives at an empty and grey park nestled between buildings he has to strain his neck to see the tops of. There’s a few people huddled on benches and walking dogs, but only one with an orange cap pulled down low, blue NY emblazoned on the front.

He jogs over, pulling up as if he has a stitch, and props his leg onto the half of the bench the man isn’t using. The brim of the cap turns to him, but he still can’t see the other man’s face.

“I don’t know about you, but I wish I could change the weather.” He hates the awkward way the code phrase slips from his lips. He feels like an idiot even using it, but Cain had sent it in all caps. Probably while laughing himself sick.

He turns his face up towards Aaron, and he’s struck at how young the man is. He can’t be more than twenty, still a bit of baby fat around the edges of his jaw.

“Well, only some of us have the power for that.” He replies with his end of the phrase. Aaron feels a little tension leave him at the confirmation that the man is Nicky.

Aaron nods, continuing to stretch out his side, waiting for Nicky to speak, not even sure what this boy could help him with.

Nicky’s digging through his bag, eventually drawing out a phone and placing it on the bench beside him, and then putting in a wireless earpiece and looking determinedly away from Aaron while speaking loud enough for him to hear. “The other members of the council have similar watchers.”

Aaron keeps his face stoic, but internally he’s surprised they’ve got that many people in on this. It had always felt like a ragtag criminal operation with his uncle running the area around London and, before that, Emmerdale.

He crosses his arm across his chest, stretching out his shoulders while twisting at the waist.

Nicky pretends to listen to someone on the other side of the earpiece, “Yes. You’ll get more information texted to you when there are updates.” He pulls out a magazine and puts it onto the phone next to him, continuing talking to the air. “The addresses of the other council members and the like are in the contacts.”

Nicky stands and turns down the path through the park, nodding as if listening to a response.

Aaron stretches his other side, then picks up the small pile, pocketing the phone before throwing the magazine in the bin.

He runs five laps of the park, picking up speed as he goes so he’s covered in sweat despite the chill, then lopes back to the brownstone, mobile phone bumping against his thigh with each step.

This is real. It’s happening. They’re taking on the U.N. and either changing their minds or ending them all.

——

_A Russian ban on mutant propaganda has gone into effect as of today. The law forbids any distribution of media that portrays “non-traditional genetic abilities” in any positive light. Putin has made statements that the law was put in place in order to protect children from “seeing mutants as safe” and is meant as a way to avoid both younger children being harmed by contact with mutant classmates, and as a way to dissuade older ones from forming relationships that could result in children with a higher chance of inheriting the gene. He says that this law “does not harm anybody” and will do nothing to any current mutants living in the country. Pro-mutant safety groups warn that travel to Russia will be dangerous for mutants, and it should be avoided unless absolutely necessary._

——

They’ve barely been in New York for two days when Robert begins to chafe under the constant presence of his father, unable to escape to his office for most of the day. He makes biting comments and jabs at the breakfast table, Jack barely reacting behind his Wall Street Journal, and refuses to go to a welcome dinner at one of the other council member’s house.

Aaron lies on his bed, arms out in front of him as he idly scrolls through his news feed, unprepared for the night off created by the cancelled dinner plans. He can hear Robert rustling around in his room, has learned the wall that separates them is completely without soundproofing. It’s a later addition, a flimsy bit of drywall dividing an overly generous room into two smaller ones.

He hears Robert exit his door, and then immediately open Aaron’s without so much as a knock.

Aaron looks over, eyebrow raised at the unsurprising rudeness.

His brain stalls out at the sight of Robert. He’s in tight jeans, deep purple shirt tailored to hug his torso underneath a fitted leather jacket.

“Get dressed. We’re going out.”

Aaron studies him. Robert looks like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin, tension clear in every joint.

A night getting drunk and dancing will probably do Robert good, even considering the harm it will do Aaron to see him wrapped around people, long fingers traveling across other bodies.

He stands to walk to his closet, but is interrupted by new instructions from Robert. “We’re going to an underground club. Try to look less like a bodyguard if you can.”

Aaron throws a glance over his shoulder.

“I’d like to get in without having to hand the bouncer too much cash,” Robert offers as explanation.

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Go. I’ll be down in ten.”

“What? No fashion show?” Robert’s all broad smiles and honey sweet voice now that Aaron’s agreed.

“Stick around and I’ll wear the earpiece.” The back of his neck pricks hot with the thought of Robert watching him get dressed. He needs him out of the room so he can think clearly enough to find something to put on.

“You’re no fun, Dingle.” Robert retreats, and Aaron can hear him move down the hallway.

He’s brought some black jeans with him for his days off, and he has a fitted grey shirt that the last guy he came onto in a club let him know showed off his arms all while running his hand over them appreciatively. He slips on some black leather sneakers, still fully functional if there’s a need for a fight.

He doesn’t bother to look at himself in the mirror. Robert has to take this or leave it. He didn’t come to America with the intention of going out on the pull. He slips his wallet into his pocket, running his hands over the sides of his head to smooth flat the short hairs there.

He jogs down the stairs, bouncing down the last step. Robert’s on his phone, presumably waiting for the driver. “Where’s the place? I’d like to at least look it up if I’m expected to protect you there.”

Robert looks up, eyes sliding off Aaron’s face and to his chest and then arms. He crosses them instinctively.

“It’s called Twist. It’s downtown.” He brings his eyes back up to meet Aaron’s.

Aaron nods, resigning himself to reading about the place in the car.

They head out the door, street lamps shining off the folds in Robert’s leather jacket and drawing Aaron’s attention to the width and strength of his back. The leather looks soft and supple, the kind of jacket that would feel warm and solid under his hands.

The ride is silent. Robert’s looking at the city as it passes, and Aaron’s trying to get information about Twist. It’s some sort of alternative and secretive club. Seems to cater to a wealthy crowd that’s interested in not being recognized for the night. They’ve got an excellent security team under their employ, and they advertise that they take safety seriously.

It seems to be the kind of place where Robert’s in safe hands, and that settles something inside him. He slips the phone back into his pocket and turns towards Robert, wants a sense of what he’s aiming to get out of this night. Hopes it’s just to lose himself for a while.

He runs his eyes across the way the denim hugs Robert’s thighs and guesses he’s on the hunt for more than that, so Aaron resigns himself to a night with his headphones stuffed into his ears and his heart hurting.

The driver pulls up to a warehouse that has a line of people twisted around it. Aaron’s stomach churns with unwarranted jealousy as images of Robert with strangers flash across his mind.

He’s got no hold on Robert. No right to his body, but it doesn’t keep him from wishing Robert wanted him, even if Aaron knows he can’t act on anything. It’s too risky. He could jeopardize everything they’ve been building to. Could destroy any chance he has to make a difference.

Robert bloomin’ Sugden is not fit enough to risk the extermination of all mutants, no matter how nicely his jeans cling to him.

——

_Top Middleweight MMA Fighter Ross Barton has been banned from the sport for the use of performance enhancing genetics after it came to light this week that he had been concealing his true mutant status through falsifying blood tests. In a solemn statement made at a press conference this morning, Barton stated: “I take full responsibility for what I did and make no excuses for my actions. What I did was against the rules, it was unfair, and it cheated my competitors and sponsors. I let down fans, supporters, friends, family, and countless others that spent their precious time and money to encourage me and watch me compete. I also let down my training team and ultimately disgraced the sport that I love.” The doctor who willingly falsified his records has worked with a number of high profile athletes within both MMA and boxing, all of whom are being asked to be retested by their managers and owners._

——

The thrum of the music buzzes through Aaron’s skin as they walk down the stairs illuminated from beneath with colorful and contrasting lights. He watches the way the tones catch on the planes of Robert’s face: greens, pinks, blues, and reds painting his cheekbones.

They exit the stairs into a room lined on three sides with bars, all turned towards the massive LED wall that is displaying layered images of people and paint and smoke and nothing concrete enough for Aaron to interpret. In front of the wall is a DJ booth with a woman wearing an elaborate set of wings covered in markings illuminated by black light.

Aaron looks at the back of Robert’s head. The man has shirts with elbow patches. How he’s planning on fitting in here is anyone’s guess.

The music is the kind of unrelenting noise that makes people move to it for lack of any ability to interpret its meaning. He enjoys the way it reverberates in his ribcage, echoing against his sternum.

He’s always enjoyed loud music, the way it can feed into his power without any of the negative inputs. As a teen he’d found concerts and clubs a convenient place to get some quakes off. His need fueled by the panic he’d felt, anytime a man showed interest; so much to hide from himself and the world.

Robert twists around, saying something Aaron can’t make out. He leans in and tilts his ear towards him for him to repeat it. Robert mirrors the movement, placing his hand on Aaron’s elbow, and Aaron almost misses the words he’s so focused on the way he can feel them on his skin. “I’ll put the drinks in, yeah?”

Aaron’s at work, no matter what this looks like, and he turns his head to speak into Robert’s ear, “Just a Coke for me. I’m on the clock.”

Robert pulls back, a flash of disappointment on his face even as he nods.

Aaron settles in to lean on a hightop table, elbows braced against it as he watches the crowd. A woman is dancing with her hands outstretched and it seems like some sort of lights are attached to each of her fingers, glowing digits moving to the rhythm. She reminds him of a jellyfish he once saw at Sea Life, undulating with softly luminescent edges.

“She’s fucking gorgeous isn’t she?” It’s an unfamiliar woman’s voice at his side, and he pulls away, surprised. The woman’s gotten far closer to him than he’d usually allow, but he can’t hear anyone’s approach. The realization makes him check Robert, who is leaning over the bar chatting to the bartender who seems to find whatever he is saying riveting.

The woman is looking at him, seemingly unbothered by his silence. She’s got half her head shaved and full sleeves of watercolor tattoos on both arms.

“She’s alright, I s’pose. If you’re into women.” He wants this overly familiar stranger out of his space, figures outing himself as uninterested in her or her friend will do the trick.

The woman flashes him a sly smile, “Oh, I very much am.” She looks back at the glowing woman, and Aaron takes a moment to try and assess her as a threat because she appears to be making no moves to leave.

The colors on her arms are shifting.

His heart races, eyes fixated on the swirling patterns. She catches him looking, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never met someone so brazen about their powers.

“Pretty, right? I love getting to take my sleeves off down here.” She nods at the dancer, “Just like she likes getting her glow on.”

Aaron’s eyes flick first to the woman, really looking and taking in that her hands are bare. He then watches Robert’s back. Robert, who has chosen this place, has done research. While he’s looking at him, Robert turns around, drinks in hand, and holds his gaze before starting over.

“First date?” Aaron jumps again, having completely forgotten about the woman as his world narrowed to just Robert.

He’s saved from having to explain that Robert’s his employer by the man himself, who hands him a cold glass already wet with condensation. Robert looks between Aaron and the woman. “Alright?”

He nods, gesturing at her. “Just chattin.”

The music shifts, and the woman gasps in recognition. “This is my song!” She slides off through the crowd as the bass increases, moving to wrap her arms around the waist of the glowing girl.

Robert looks at Aaron questioningly, but he just shrugs, shouting over the noise, “Americans are too friendly.”

That draws out a laugh that Aaron is sad he can barely hear over the music, but it makes him smile in response. He tries to mask it by taking a sip, but knows his eyes are laughing over the rim at Robert.

Once Robert’s had his first drink, he’s far less tightly wound. Aaron’s ears have acclimated a bit to the noise, but he doesn’t object every time Robert moves to lean in and make an observation about something or other. He seems content to lean on the table with Aaron, watching the dance floor.

Aaron’s never been a dancer, but he can tell the DJ is playing a set that keeps the whole crowd moving, lights, LED wall, and sound waves pulsing to the beat. It’s pulling on Aaron’s power that’s been mostly unreactive since his flight.

Aaron’s only just finished his drink when Robert leans in, upper arm pressed against Aaron’s. “Another? Or could I tempt you into one beer?”

Aaron shoots him a look, leaning into his touch to say “I’m on duty, Mr. Sugden.”

Robert rolls his eyes, “And one bottle won’t make a difference.” He leans in, voice quieter and nearly sultry, “Don’t make me drink alone.”

Aaron wants to push him into the table so it digs into his back and kiss him until he shuts up.

“Go on, then.” The words tumble from his lips.

Robert smiles like he’s the cat who got the cream, and Aaron turns to watch him slide through the crowd.

The combination of the room and Robert has riled him up. He _wants_. The song’s picked up, bass booming, and he can’t resist so much in a day, he’s only one man. He can’t stop himself from slightly amplifying the boom and buzz of the subwoofers, the rhythmic pulse helping him syphon off one need so he can focus on resisting the other.

He closes his eyes, focusing on the way he resonates with the air and ground when Robert returns. He can tell because he feels his footsteps missing the beat Aaron’s enveloped in. He opens his eyes just as Robert steps into his personal space and passes him a dark bottle.

“Like this song?” The rumble of Robert’s voice is at odds with the one Aaron’s creating.

He’s so close, and Aaron increases his waves to combat the instinct to close the distance between their lips. “Never heard it.”

Robert sways a bit, forward and back, and Aaron realizes he’s pushing the air between them to the beat and Robert is responding to it. His mouth goes dry, and he takes a swig from his beer and places it back on the table. He grimaces at the taste, it’s some weak and bland American ale, indistinguishable from any other.

Robert’s still turned toward him, gaze intense, pupils blown wide. The music is pumping through him, his power singing in his veins.

Robert moves in closer while Aaron’s frozen in indecision, hand coming out to rest on his elbow, eyes questioning as he swipes his thumb over the soft fabric. Aaron can feel his touch, as electric as if his skin were bare.

He can feel the way the music and his own reverberations are being channeled through Robert, the steady beat evident in the thumb that’s pressing lightly into the soft crease of Aaron’s elbow. It would be so easy to give in, he’s already losing his grip on his power as the pull and sway of Robert engulfs his attention. What’s one more blurred boundary?

What’s one more lie of omission to this man who’s done nothing to deserve it but be born a Sugden.

Aaron tenses, a knot forming in his stomach around the lie he could tell. He uses the arm Robert’s got a hand on to reach for his beer, lightly shrugging him off. He avoids Robert’s eyes so he won’t have to answer the question that’s there.

He shouldn’t have accepted the drink. Should have kept the lines firm. Employer/Employee division intact at every level.

The safety lights of the club turn on suddenly, blinding everyone. The LED screen blares red words: POLICE RAID. Everyone begins moving hurriedly towards the emergency exits. Aaron can’t lose Robert, so he grabs him by the forearm and pulls him to the door nearest them, pushing it open.

The chill of the air outside is bracing, but it’s dark and the police lights are flashing distantly on the far side of the next block. He takes a moment, not knowing exactly where they’ve exited.

The woman from earlier comes up next to him, arms crossed over herself but tattoos still on display. “C’mon, there’s a diner a couple blocks thata way. You don’t want to be caught catching a cab outside a club that’s being raided.”

Aaron looks at Robert, who shrugs in agreement, and they follow.

They’re barely a block into their walk when the woman says, “Hey blondie, any chance you’d feel like living up to your country’s rep for being chivalrous? I’m freezin’ here.”

——

_An act of terror in central Madrid has demolished one of the few hospitals known to treat mutants within the city limits. This morning, at six am, a van loaded with explosives drove into the ambulance bay and was detonated by the driver. The explosion caused the collapse of the two floors above the bay, one of which was the children’s ward. Seventy two patients have been confirmed dead, nearly all children under the age of fourteen as many of the doctors and nurses were at the other end of the hospital for shift change. Officials on both sides of the issue are condemning the action as the work of fringe groups._

——

The woman is named Kat. She introduces herself on their walk to the diner while texting a few friends from the club, checking in on their safety. Robert’s shivering a bit without his jacket, and Aaron wants to draw closer so he can share his warmth, but knows that touching Robert is a slippery slope. He steadfastly keeps his distance, watching the streets for more signs of the police.

The diner’s not too busy, mostly filled with people who look like they’re from the club, and Kat’s friends have a couple of booths and a section of the high top bar occupied. She throws herself into a pleather-wrapped bench, tossing the jacket back to Robert and exposing her multicolored arms once in the relative safety of her friend group.

Aaron’s already thinking up excuses to head out when Kat starts panicking at her phone.

“They got Jess.”

The group clearly knows the name and a taller man leaning against the bar pulls out his phone. “I’ll call my lawyer. They’ve got no case. It’s a legal establishment and she wasn’t holding anything. Tell her to stay calm and ask for an attorney.”

Robert’s watching the chaos, uncharacteristically silent. Aaron’s just behind his shoulder, unconcerned with whomever Jess is, just wanting to get them out of this place without anyone realizing who Robert is.

A smaller goth leans over and reaches out a hand to Robert. “Charlie.”

Aaron watches Robert go into business mode, giving a good solid handshake, “Rob. And this is Aaron.” Aaron hopes his face registered nothing at the nickname as he nods in greeting.

“First time at Twist?” Charlie’s leaning back against the counter, body twisted toward Robert.

Robert ducks his head a bit. “How’d you tell?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed you.” There’s a flirting twist to their black-tinged lips.

Aaron’s eyes roll so hard he thinks they may get stuck. Robert doesn’t even acknowledge the line.

“This happen often?” He gestures around the diner at the gathering.

The goth glances around, nodding at their friends, “Every month or so the cops roll in to let us know we’re not wanted or they’re watchin’ us or somethin’. Fuckin’ NYPD hates the genetically blessed even though they can’t legally do shit.”

Robert stills, and Aaron shifts his weight, ready to pull him out of the diner to safety if he steps in it.

When he speaks his voice is soft. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron wants to gather him up in his arms and hug him.

They smile wryly, “It’s not your fault. The city’s just not ready to accept that in a city of eight million they’ve got plenty of mutants who aren’t a danger to fuck all.” They point to Kat. “She literally can only change colors. She’s basically a shitty chameleon.”

Kat flips them off, grabbing some fries of another woman’s plate.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing. He pulls it out, sees it’s Tate, and excuses himself onto the street, keeping his eyes on Robert through the glass.

“Dingle, what is your ETA back?” Tate sounds more smarmy than ever, and it makes Aaron want to poke the bear.

“Can’t say. Sugden’s not pulled yet.” He can almost hear the grinding of teeth on the other end of the line. He looks at Robert, sees how stiff his stance has become while listening to whatever the two people he’s talking to are saying.

“He’s expected at a meeting at oh six hundred tomorrow. This is non-negotiable.” Joe’s voice is commanding in a way he has no right to be.

Aaron bristles at the order. “He’ll be there.” He hangs up without waiting for more, pulls out his phone, calls the car, and goes to retrieve Robert from the group.

He opens the door to hear Kat talking, “You guys probably have it way worse. I hear England’s impossible to be open in with Jack Sugden whispering hate speech in the Prime Minister’s ear.”

Aaron does the only thing he can think of to save him. He walks up to Robert’s side and pulls him by his bicep towards the door while trying for a friendly tone. “Rob, our ride’s on its way. You’ve got an early meeting.” He turns and waves over his shoulder, “Ta, everyone.”

Robert’s gone silent, and Aaron lets him stay that way as they stand on the corner together in the darkness, blowing into their hands to stay warm.

——

_Mutant rights organizations in Buenos Aires are working in tandem with members of the feminist group #NiUnaMenos to stage a series of sit in campaigns at the beginning of next month in response to the president’s statements proposing required abortions for all pregnant mutants. The president had previously backed pro-life agendas, but with three allegedly mutant attacks in the last month across the country, he has changed his stance. Opponents claim two of the supposed attacks were, in fact, natural disasters brought on by global warming, an issue the president has refused to address due to his deep ties with the business leaders of Argentina._

——

Robert doesn’t speak the whole ride back to the house, leaning back against the car’s headrest the second he sits down, turning his head towards the window, and closing his eyes. Even with his face mostly turned away Aaron can tell he’s working through something; His brow is furrowed, and occasionally his hands shift nervously, twisting the leather jacket he’s still holding.

They pull up to the curb. Aaron suddenly tired down to his bones, the jet lag setting in. Their night was cut short. It’s only midnight, but he feels as out of sorts as if he’d been out for days.

Robert still hasn’t said a word, and Aaron’s getting nervous he’s going to retreat back into himself, that their moment in the club combined with the fear of being caught out may have ruined something between them.

Robert is standing and staring at his own door, still lost in his thoughts, when Aaron gets up the nerve to break the silence between them.

“Night.” It’s quiet, there’s people asleep just across the hall and from experience Aaron knows Vic doesn’t take well to being disturbed.

Robert turns, face unreadable, and just looks at Aaron.

The silence is suffocating.

“Thanks.” Robert finally croaks out. He must see Aaron’s slightly furrowed brow at that so he elaborates, “For keeping me out of trouble.”

Aaron tries to lighten the conversation. “That’s my actual job title: Keep Sugden out of trouble.”

Robert shakes his head. “I mean it, Aaron. I don’t know what would have happened if it had gotten out that I was there. I–”

He cuts himself off, thumbing along his eyebrow and looking down.

He sighs, looking back up at Aaron. “Just: thanks.”

His eyes soften as he continues. “For all of it.”

Robert opens his door, slipping into the inky darkness behind and leaving Aaron alone in the quiet of the hall, feeling like a fraud.

——

_The family of a young mutant who was found dead last month after weeks of bullying is suing the Texas public school system for systemic harassment of their child. The boy, who was only thirteen, was filmed without his knowledge by a classmate as he was working to control his powers in his backyard. The classmate posted a clip to their Instagram story, and later uploaded the whole video to YouTube. They included his name in the post and tagged him on Instagram, resulting in the boy being harassed for weeks by neighbors, classmates, and teachers. The family was considering pulling him from his school before he went missing and his body was found two days later. Police have not yet released the cause of death, but they have stated that the circumstances were not suspicious and the investigation has since been closed._

——

Aaron’s been up since four, his body still thrown by the time change despite the scant hours he managed the night before. He’s running on caffeine and the promise of a quiet afternoon, Robert’s schedule empty after this morning meeting.

He’s sitting in the charming breakfast nook that Vic had squealed over and trying to pack enough eggs and toast in to insulate his stomach against the harsh black tea he’s already had four cups of. He takes a moment to check in on his power, feels the way it’s begun burbling again, threatening to spill out.

Maybe he can use some of his time off to go for a real run, excess energy put to better use.

They have eight minutes until they’re meant to be out the door when Robert swans in looking fully rested, dressed in one of his new suits, his blonde hair perfect and skin practically glowing.

“Morning.” Robert throws over his shoulder at Aaron as he sets the French press up. Once it’s brewing he turns and leans against the counter, phone in hand, long legs stretched a bit in front of him.

Aaron grunts a reply, too few hours of sleep and minutes remaining before they head out, to be up for a chat. But he’s warmed by the ease in Robert. He’s not radiating the same tension he’s had since they landed, seems more comfortable in his own skin.

Robert seems content to scroll through his feed, smiling slightly sometimes as he double taps the screen. There’s nothing to the silence. It’s companionable and simple. It makes something that had been gnawing at Aaron disappear.

They are alright.

Heart lighter with that knowledge, Aaron puts his plate in the sink, checking if he’s wearing crumbs and finding none.

Robert hears him wrapping up and straightens, turning to plunge the coffee. He pours it into a stainless steel travel flask. He then moves over to pull open the fridge and grab an apple, holding it in his teeth as he hip checks the door closed and twists the flask shut.

Their eyes meet once Robert’s taken a bite from the apple and started holding it normally again, and Aaron can feel his eyes crinkle up on the sides at the moment of quiet domesticity they’d shared.

He gestures towards the door. “After you.”

Robert sighs, “This had better be an absolutely vital meeting.” Up close he looks a bit more worn than Aaron had thought. “I’m knackered.”

Aaron nods. “Even if it isn’t, your afternoon is free. Can take it easy.”

He can almost feel the blanket wrapped around him during the nap he’s dreaming of. His phone buzzes in his pocket as he pulls the door open for Robert.

They’re stepping out and walking down the stairs when Aaron notices the car’s in a slightly different place than normal, a few spots further up the street than it’s meant to be. Its regular location is still available, and it sets him on edge, scanning the buildings across the street for threats.

He sees the barrel poking out a third story window, and realizes there’s no cover because the car’s not there to block the shot. Robert’s two steps away, his longer legs placing him just out of reach, so he does the only thing he can think of.

He jumps towards Robert, pushes toward him and at the same time sends a shock of energy through his arms to shove him forward and behind the next car. Hopes that with his leap the strength of his push and use of power is obscured.

They both hit the ground as the shot rings out, hard concrete slamming into Aaron’s left elbow and hip. He scrambles on, pulling Robert nearer to the car and trying to calculate trajectories as best he can. A second shot takes out the window above Robert, showering him with tiny cubes of green tinted glass. Aaron pushes down on his head and pulls him over to keep him better protected by the metal frame that is between the windows of the car.

Pete’s shouting through his earpiece, and Aaron tries to remember exactly which window. “Third floor, building directly across. Either center or left window.” He’s panting, kneeling awkwardly, and trying to see if the shooter could be moving to a window that gets them a shot on Robert.

The bulletproof SUV they’re meant to be in pulls alongside the car they’re behind, blocking the path of bullets so they can scramble in through the back door.

Inside, it’s dark and safe, and immediately Aaron’s screaming at the new driver, “Why the hell were you out of place?”

Robert’s got a palm in the center of Aaron’s chest, pushing him back into the seat even as he sees red.

The poor woman looks terrified, shocked white. “I’m sorry, but this is where I was told to be. The other driver was in the front spot, he had to take Mr. Sugden to his meeting early, some scheduling conflict. Check with Mr. Foster if you don’t believe me!”

Robert’s hand has left a star of warmth over the middle of Aaron’s sternum that helps calm him and lets her words trickle through to his rational mind. He pulls out his phone, wincing at the pain in his arm as he bends it. He’s got a text from two minutes ago, the buzz from earlier, from Graham. _Change of plans this morning: Jack’s meeting was moved up. Your car will be just to the side. _

He’s staring at the notification when Pete’s voice comes in his ear, “The shooter’s gone. Shell casings on the ground by the window, but the place is empty.”

“Alright, Barton. Call the police and then start scanning through all of our security cameras. See if we can get some footage of the building from the last twenty four hours. I’ll brief Graham on what’s happening.” Aaron tells him.

He’s starting to feel the more serious effects of hitting the ground awkwardly, elbow blossoming in pain along with his hip. His shirt under the jacket is sticking to his arm worrisomely. He grinds his teeth together, shaking off the ache and feeling two sets of eyes watching him. He hazards a glance to Robert. His eyes are still wide with adrenaline, and the flutter of his heartbeat is almost audible from where Aaron is, but he’s alive.

Aaron makes eye contact with the driver, “Sorry. I had it wrong.” He grinds out the words, still certain that her location had put Robert in danger, even if she’d been under orders.

She nods, “I understand.” She looks at Robert. “Sorry sir, but we’ll have to cancel your meeting. We’ll have police to speak to and new security plans to put in place.”

Robert looks confused. “Meeting?” He frowns, until the plan for the day before everything had been shot to hell comes to him. “Oh. I’ll let them know.” He pulls out his phone, sure and businesslike, calling up his day’s appointments.

Aaron mirrors Robert, calls Graham to brief him on the situation. The man’s unreadable as ever, but lets Aaron know he’s running point until they return. Apparently Jack is in critical meetings that cannot be rescheduled for the rest of the day. Aaron rolls his eyes. The man won’t even change his plan when his own son was nearly killed.

Conversation done, Aaron leans back against the seat, eyes glued to Robert’s profile as he moves around meetings, knowing that at some point the reality of what just happened will hit him and wanting to be there to help. He sees the way Robert’s breathing is speeding up, his hands shaking.

Aaron looks over to the driver in the mirror. She’s fully occupied speaking with the other driver, GPS on, trying to plan out new routines now that they know there’s someone watching their movements.

Robert’s hands are obviously trembling, even as he’s making plans with investors, and Aaron reaches out unthinkingly to grab the one that’s not holding his phone. Robert’s voice stutters mid word, but he doesn’t pull away, just lets Aaron’s thumb ghost over his knuckles on the leather seat between them.

——

_Southern Australia’s nuclear waste storage facility got a safety boost from an unlikely source today: a local mutant. Sandra Willows was employed by the facility a month ago as a site manager, and it was only upon her hiring that her ability came to light. She had been unaware that she has the gene, but when she arrived at her first day and began glowing, she was immediately taken to the on site doctor. It turns out that her body absorbs traditionally harmful radioactive energy and turns it into harmless visible light, partially cleaning the area around her for her coworkers. “She’s a bright spot in my days,” says officemate Linda, who jokes she’s planning on wearing sunnies to work next week. Experts at the plant are working with Sandra to learn what process her cells are using in an effort to replicate this effect in the lab, and are hoping to make a protective product from her unique gift._

——

After three hours of police interviews, evidence photos, and promises to pull security cameras, Aaron’s managed to get away to have a moment to himself. His arm is killing him, the bruise that’s blooming on his hip bone feels as if it’s spreading further than he’d guessed it would. He heads to the kitchen, grabs two ice packs from the freezer, and walks to his room hoping everything will feel more manageable in a few hours.

He’s so focused on escaping that he doesn’t notice Robert following him until he stops Aaron in the hall just outside his door, fingers pressing into his arm and pulling a groan of pain from deep in Aaron’s chest.

“You’ve got to go to a doctor.” His face is lined with concern, fingers shifting where they’re connected, and Aaron bites his lip to keep from letting out a gasp.

He needs to keep it together, needs Robert to back down. He can’t go to a doctor, they’ll want blood tests and background checks, and he’s on the Sugden’s insurance over here. If anything gets back to Jack, he’s done.

“Sir, I’m fine. They’re not going to do anything but tell me to ice it and take some painkillers, both things we have here.” He opens his door and Robert follows him into his room uninvited, closing the door behind him.

“You don’t know that, you could have a stress fracture, or have torn some−”

Aaron turns, too pained and exhausted and done with this day to be purely professional, words harsher than is kind, “Robert. I mean it. It’s just scrapes and bruises, and I’m not going to some doctor for that. Leave it.”

That silences Robert, his jaw snapping shut. Aaron has a fleeting moment of victory until he throws the icepacks on his bed with his injured arm and another stab of pain radiates through him.

In a flash, Robert’s so close he can see the shades of green of his eyes, voice commanding, “Aaron, tell me why you won’t go to the hospital.”

Aaron stares up, grimacing through a wave of nausea caused by the pain. “Because it’s nowt. I’m fine.”

Robert’s eyes are searching his, asking for truth. “No, I don’t think that’s it,” he says, the low rumble of his voice pulling Aaron in.

Aaron swallows nervously, suddenly aware of the slick of Robert’s power curling around him and asking him to confess. He gets his good hand up, flat against Robert’s chest, and shoves him back, panic and pain making him put a little extra power into it.

Robert is flung back five feet, but he manages to keep his footing, pheromones dissipating as quickly as they came. His eyes go dark, voice quiet. “I knew it.”

Aaron’s suddenly in survival mode, mind filled with lies he’s no good at spinning, “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

“I think you do, I knew I felt it when you saved me.” Robert moves closer, face unreadable, and Aaron feels his heart plummet at the thought of being turned in, the knowledge that if he can’t fix this then he’s been tasked with doing the unthinkable. He squeezes his eyes shut against it all, needing a moment to think.

Aaron’s tensed for an attack, but it doesn’t come. He feels Robert’s hands clenching his jacket, so close that as Aaron slowly opens his eyes the freckles are blurry unless he focuses in on them. He tracks his way up to Robert’s eyes, and finds them far softer than he deserves.

“I get it, I do.” The words are whispered, a shared secret. “I wouldn’t tell me either.”

Aaron’s breath catches in his throat. “God, Rob, that’s not−” his voice is shaking, words barely exhaled out, “I couldn’t.”

Aaron won’t let Robert feel unworthy of his trust. He brings his uninjured arm up to cradle Robert’s jaw, thumb traveling across his cheek bone, wills him to understand. Hates that he has to keep lying to him.

Robert leans into the touch, his hand coming up to hold Aaron’s wrist, voice raw. “I am one too, but I think you knew that.”

Aaron nods. “I can feel it when you push.”

His mouth goes dry with words unspoken, unable to express how much Robert’s power engulfs him sometimes.

Robert exhales out an almost laugh. “Is that what you call it?”

He moves impossibly closer, nose brushing against Aaron’s. “I’ve always just thought of it as _wanting_.”

The way he purrs out the word breaks a wall inside Aaron.

The air is clear, and Aaron has no one to blame but himself when he uses his hand to pull on Robert’s neck, surging forward and bringing his mouth to his.

It’s imperfect: the angle is awkward and he can’t use his left hand at all, so his lips land too roughly against Robert’s, forcing Aaron to inhale sharply at the sting.

For a second it feels like the world settles in around just the two of them. The warmth of Robert’s body radiating into his, the tickle of the hairs on Robert’s nape under his fingers.

Until he notices that Robert is unresponsive, lips unmoving, and Aaron’s suddenly painfully aware that he can feel the tension in every bit of Robert’s body, in the way he’s holding his breath.

Aaron’s read this all wrong, he’s about to pull back, to apologize, when Robert’s hands come up and bracket Aaron’s face, angling him just so, hot mouth overwhelming all of his senses.

He tries to record the moment to memory, the way Robert tastes like black coffee and smells like cedar. That his lips are simultaneously pliant and demanding, fingertips forming indents where they press too hard but just how Aaron needs them to. Their panting breaths and the soft scuffs of Robert’s palms against his beard filling Aaron’s ears.

Kissing Robert feels like shaking the ground open, cracking it and tearing it and letting every bit of pressure rush to the surface. If Aaron’s an earthquake, then Robert’s magma, pouring out from every crack and fissure Aaron reveals.

Aaron moves his arm down Roberts back, pulling him in. He needs to bring their bodies together, and forgets in his haze the bloom of a bruise covering his hip.The sharp press of contact makes him hiss into Robert’s mouth, wincing in pain.

Robert pulls back, hands dragging down Aaron’s neck and settling on his collarbones as he tilts their foreheads together, bringing his breathing under control. Aaron’s glad for the multiple points of contact between them, the way they keep him tethered to the real world, certain this isn’t some pain induced delusion.

Robert moves in again, places a second softer kiss on his lips, and Aaron leans into it, feels the way his skin sparks with Robert’s touch.

“Dingle, boss is on his way back. Wants a briefing in twenty.” Pete Barton’s voice fills his ear.

Robert can’t hear the message, just the tinny muffled voice, but he gets the idea, breaking the kiss as Aaron puts his hand up to the call button. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Robert has moved away and there’s a moment of uncertainty where Aaron wonders if some of this was just adrenaline, fueled by the assassination attempt and revelation of their shared mutation. And then Robert looks at him and Aaron’s mouth goes dry because there’s so much brewing behind his eyes, and none of it is regret.

There’s a moment when Aaron considers pulling Robert back in, arm be damned, but if they’re going to do this he wants to feel him properly, not this delicate dance avoiding his injuries.

“Can ya help?” He gestures with his right hand at his arm, and Robert reaches out to help him peel off his suit coat, carefully pulling it down over Aaron’s left arm and gasping quietly.

Aaron looks down, knowing it won’t be good. The bruise and scrape is impressive, nearly all Aaron’s forearm is raw, but it’s not deep, and he can still move all his fingers and his wrist so he’s pretty sure nothing’s broken.

While he’s stretching it out, twisting a bit to see where the skin is torn, he manages to reopen the cuts on his palm and knuckles, stinging and biting painfully with every motion.

“Fuck.”

“Bathroom.” Robert’s pushing him towards the door. “We need to clean those if they’re ever going to heal.”

Aaron sits on the toilet, Robert’s touch sure and gentle as he swipes cleaning wipes over his arm. He pulls out gauze, covering the worst of the scrape in it and taping it down carefully, fingers smoothing down the edges.

Aaron watches him, studies this man who so recently grated on his every nerve; so privileged as to be unwilling to carry his own dry cleaning.

Robert takes the ice pack and wraps it around the obvious bruising with an elastic bandage, checking it won’t shift too much as Aaron moves.

He doesn’t know where this Robert is sometimes, but he’s glad he appears when Aaron needs him.

Robert pulls out small bandaids, covering the worst of his cuts on his hands with them. He stops, quietly turning Aaron’s wrist as he checks for any he missed. Robert draws his hand up to his face, and gently kisses his knuckle, forcing a choked gasp from Aaron’s lips.

Aaron’s not usually one to be looked after, and this soft, tender moment of care is overwhelming, too deep too fast.

“Ya missed yer calling as a nurse,” he jokes.

Robert smirks. “I look rubbish in scrubs.”

Something releases in Aaron, the ridiculousness of their situation crashing down around him. He laughs, “I think you’d look alright. Maybe some of those bright animal prints from the children's’ ward?”

Robert’s insulted look just makes Aaron laugh harder, and it sets Robert off, until they’re just sitting in a bathroom laughing with the world going on around them.

——

_Radical members of the Traditional Unionist Party in Northern Ireland have been blamed for the anti-mutant graffiti sprayed across the parliament building last week. They were reportedly reacting to several members of Parliament’s comments on their interest in differing from the Prime Minister’s hard stance on mutant immigration. Belfast police have released the photos of three young men who they have identified on CCTV spraying ‘No More Mutts’ and ‘T.U.P.’ on the white stone building. _

——

In just under twenty-four hours Robert’s moved from worrying over Aaron to obsessed with knowing who’s trying to kill him. He’s taken over a table on the first floor, and spread out the stills the security team and the police have isolated from the few cameras that had a clear view on the opposite building. He is scrolling through the multiple hours of footage of surrounding streets looking for anyone with larger bags that could conceal a rifle.

Unfortunately for him, even the very early morning in Manhattan is rush hour. There are hundreds of people with backpacks and briefcases and messenger bags and rolled yoga mats. Too many to reference against the smear of a figure on a grainy video that they can isolate in a window for mere seconds.

Aaron’s working with him, sitting across the table and cross referencing bullet casing information, gun specs, and purchasing documents provided by New York’s finest.

It’s useful having the pull of the U.N. behind them.

Aaron’s second phone buzzes, and he slips it from his pocket to check it under the table. _Other reps are nervous. Two think they’re switching their votes to yes._

He bites his lip, worrying it between his teeth as he feels the ever mounting resistance he’s expected to go up against, with Robert as his only hope.

“Here!” Robert’s shout of victory breaks him from his thoughts and brings him back to the task at hand.

Robert brings the laptop over, placing it in front of Aaron and bracing his arms on either side of him, chest millimeters from Aaron’s back. He’s pointing at two side-by-side stills from the same traffic camera, stamped twenty minutes apart. The second is only three minutes after the shots were fired. The same young man is in both, bulky blue backpack on and navy baseball cap pulled low.

“Watch him.” Robert clicks play on one, and Aaron watches as the man keeps his face covered the entire time he’s passing the camera, clearly aware of its location. Robert clicks the other video and this time the man’s moving quicker, head darting back and forth. He’s got his back to the camera, but he’s clearly anxious.

Aaron shrugs, “Could be something, or could be just a kid who heard gunshots and ran scared.”

Robert gesticulates wildly. “No! Look at his bag!” He pokes the screen hard enough to push little rainbow ripples around his finger.

He hits play again, and this time Aaron watches the bag. On his way towards the house it's unremarkable, but on the way out of the area it’s bulkier and more geometric, as if something hard has been shoved into it hurriedly.

Aaron perks up, leans in to see any defining characteristics about the young man that he can spot and immediately misses the heat on his back. It’s as if Robert can read his mind, he shifts and one hand comes to rest on the space between Aaron’s shoulder blades.

Aaron’s proud he keeps his voice steady as Robert gently smoothes his thumb across his back, “Is he on any of the store cameras? He might’ve had no idea where they were.”

“I’ll check.” Robert pulls the chair next to him over and puts the computer down, scooting it further into Aaron’s space.

Aaron shifts so the ice packs on his arm and hip won’t drip condensation onto Robert. Robert notices, glancing down at the movement, and stands back up, swapping the side he’s sitting on. It makes something in Aaron’s heart flutter that Robert so effortlessly accommodates him.

They spend the next two hours combing through footage from the surrounding blocks, trying to track the man through the streets of New York. Robert’s gotten up to get them both another cup of tea when Aaron sees the blue backpack and hat duck into a bodega with an ATM out front. An ATM that he knows they have the footage from.

He’s clicking through one handed, hampered by his injury and the way his eyes have gone dry from staring at throngs of morning commuters. He finally finds the footage and scrolls through to the correct time stamp, nearly crying in relief when the man walks right past the camera, profile in full view. He pauses the video before taking notes on defining features.

He’s young and nearly pretty, with a bit of light stubble and reddish blonde hair swept behind an ear. They’re lucky he has a distinctive cleft chin and sharp jawline, which means it should be relatively easy to find a match in some database. Even more so if they can get the bodega owner to give up their cameras and receipts from the day. The shooter could’ve slipped up and used a card.

Robert returns, mugs in hand. “Anything?”

Aaron nods in affirmation. “The man himself,” he says, turning the computer around so he can see.

The cups don’t hit the floor, but it’s a near thing as Robert splashes piping hot tea onto the ground, barely keeping his grasp on them. “Shit.”

Aaron starts up, worried Robert’s burnt himself in his excitement about catching the man. Robert shoves the mugs onto the table and shakes the tea from his hands, all while keeping his eyes on the image, face the picture of fury.

“His name’s Connor,” he grinds out, “He used to work for my father.”

Aaron twists to look at the screen. “Ya sure?”

Robert nods. He’s gone pale.

“Official story is he was sacked for making violent threats against mutant activists.” He laughs humorlessly, voice low and dark, “Truth is that was all going to be swept under the rug until we were caught together.”

Aaron sees red. Jack valuing his son staying in the closet over the lives of mutants is no surprise, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. He clamps down on his power, drawing in on himself so he can’t do damage.

And then Robert’s there, one hand on the ball of his right shoulder, closer than he should be, “I didn’t know he was like that, or I wouldn’t’ve−”

Aaron snaps out of his temper, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes, “God, Robert. I’m not mad at you.”

Robert frowns in confusion, mouth barely ajar. “No?”

Aaron brings his good hand up to Robert’s arm, fingers resting in the crook of his elbow.

“No, you idiot,” he says fondly, then lowers his voice to a serious near whisper, conscious of the cameras around them. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

It’s about as explicit as he can be in this room, and nowhere near enough.

Robert’s eyes have gone glassy and fond, eyes crinkling up at the sides. “Shut up.”

They need to move apart, add to the distance between them, so Aaron pulls away reluctantly and opens his computer. “What’s his full name?”

“Connor Jenson. I knew he was struggling since−” Robert thumbs over an eyebrow, “But we weren’t anything really. Why would he go after me?”

A quick search leads Aaron to Connor’s Instagram. He’s been quiet recently, there’s nothing about New York in his photos. Aaron scrolls through, tries to get a sense of the man who wants Robert dead. It’s ten artsy photos of landscapes and cocktails before he sees a selfie and opens it.

Robert’s at his shoulder, nodding. “That’s him.”

He moves to his own computer, looking at the footage Aaron has left paused on the screen, and scrolls through it for more angles.

Connor’s happy, on a beach somewhere, and he’s got an arm around a woman in a giant sun hat and sunglasses. The caption reads ‘#throwbackthursday with @bexsunlight.’

Heart plummeting, Aaron clicks on the familiar handle, and is met with a photo of Rebecca White, colorful umbrella open behind her, sky scrapers just peeking out around it. The caption reads ‘In a New York minute.’

It can’t be a coincidence, but he has no idea what it means. His mind starts racing. Could Chrissie be working both sides? Playing mutants against the U.N. to fuel a war? Is he being manipulated into being a weapon for her?

He clicks the page closed. He needs to talk to Cain, needs someone he knows he can trust with this. “I’m just going to make a couple’a calls.”

Robert nods, completely engrossed in whatever he’s searching.

Aaron steps into the hall, pulse pounding in his ears, and sucks in a deep breath of air, overwhelmed. He leans against the wall, its sturdy structure helping him center himself, and sends a quick text: _need to talk. family business._ He hopes Cain will read it correctly and be sure he’s nowhere anyone else can hear what Aaron’s got to say.

——

_A mutant attack in Osaka today was the first the city has experienced since new healthcare services were put in place two months ago. A woman whose son was struck and killed by a car began screaming, her power resonating all metal around her and endangering the lives of thousands. Opponents of the mutant support clinics point to the incident as proof that the initiatives are not working, but the police’s crisis management operator, who was able to talk the woman down, stated that her sensitivity “training was the only thing that kept all of us alive.” The mutant woman is not expected to face any jail time, and has already willingly signed herself into a grief counseling service designed to regulate emotional responses in a healthy manner._

——

Without any hard evidence, and no word yet from Cain, Aaron knows they have to dig more into Connor’s background. He’s a catering waiter, but his Instagram is full of lavish trips and expensive dinners. Even Robert whistles at some of the names of restaurants Aaron reads out the tagged names of.

Someone’s funding him, and Aaron’s more and more certain it’s the Whites.

He clears his throat, tries to sound natural, “This bexsunlight is tagged in a bunch of his posts.”

Robert frowns, head tilted as he tries to remember. “That’s ringing some bells.” He leans into Aaron with the pretense of looking at his screen, and the way his arm presses heat through both their shirts and into Aaron’s skin is an anchor of distraction he needs. He lets Robert push against him as he scrolls through Rebecca’s page.

“I think I’ve met her, at some charity thing years ago.” Something in Robert’s voice rings false, but then he snaps his fingers, eyes bright, “Oh! She’s Chrissie’s sister, they had a falling out over something…”

He trails off, looking up and trying to recall society gossip. “Vic would know.”

He pulls out his phone and shoots off a text, something frantic in his movements, Aaron can feel his thrumming drive to get answers.

Aaron is stuck on the familiarity in Robert’s voice when he named Chrissie White. “Chrissie?”

If Robert knows Chrissie personally, why would she send him in? For plausible deniability? To keep her hands clean?

“Chrissie White, she’s in charge of a foundation I’ve made contributions to. Her father’s loaded, I’ve been trying to get his business for years.” Robert hums to himself, eyes glued to his phone, “Can’t remember the last time I saw her.”

Aaron wants to tell him the exact moment, wants to shout at him how close he was to one of the most powerful and deadly mutants he’s ever met, but he keeps quiet. Knows he can’t say anything without revealing too much.

Robert’s still nearly in his lap, scrolling through pictures on the laptop, when he freezes and clicks, opening one in a new tab. He does the same with two more.

Aaron feels the way he’s shifted focus, gone fully alert to something. He watches.

Robert opens the three posts side by side. In the first, Rebecca is posed in front of a swirling colorful church with a fur hat on, “From Russia with Love <3” across the bottom. In the second she’s posed leaning artfully against the stones of the Great Wall, captioned “The best travel starts with a single step.” And in the third she’s drinking wine at an outdoor cafe on the streets of Paris, and all it says is “j’adore.”

They’re nice looking if unremarkable photos. “She’s got money, I’ll give her that,” Aaron says, at a loss as to where this is going.

“Look at the dates,” Robert points, voice hollow.

They’re all in a ten day span, beginning around a month ago. The Russia one is just two days after Aaron was hired by Robert, the Great wall four after that, and the Paris five days later.

Robert pushes off Aaron, and pulls his own computer over, pulling up the news coverage on the assassination attempts on members of the council. The French member’s girl in Paris was the most recent, the Chinese member’s son just before it, and the Russian delegate’s baby right before that.

“Christ,” Aaron exhales.

“Guess I’ll not be giving any more donations to the Whites,” Robert jokes shakily.

Aaron can tell how shaken he is by this attack. Knowing who wants him dead a harsher pill to swallow than a nameless evil.

He’s on the verge of telling him everything, coming clean about Chrissie’s role in his working there, the whole plan, certain it would be the right thing to do, when his phone rings, _CAIN _plastered across the screen. Inconveniently timed as ever.

“I have ta take this, it’s my uncle.” He stands, walking out of the room. He’ll tell Robert once he’s told Cain the type of group they’re working for. Once he’s cut ties for good.

“Cain?”

“Aaron.” Cain sounds muted and soft, like he’s in a small room.

“Y’alright?” Aaron asks.

“Peachy.”

Aaron sighs in relief hearing the response they’d chosen back when Aaron was a scared young mutant to let each other know everything was safe.

“I’ve got news. It’s about the Whites.” He clears his throat, suddenly nervous. “We think Chrissie’s sister is organizing the assassination attempts. She’s got the cover of constant travel, and money to burn.”

There’s a long pause as Cain absorbs the information. When he does speak again there’s a tinge of stress in his voice, almost as if he’s caught in the same doubts Aaron is. “Alright...”

“Aaron!” Robert’s muffled voice calls from the other room.

“Sorry, just a sec,” Aaron murmurs into the phone and opens the door, leaning into the room with his hand over the speaker. “Yeah?”

Robert’s at his computer still, calling over his shoulder, “It looks like all the White’s organizations removed Rebecca from their board of directors a year ago. Vic says the gossip is she’s been cut out of the will too.”

Relief washes over Aaron, his knees going shaky. “Ah.”

He closes the door again, bringing the phone back up to his mouth. “It sounds like someone other than dear old dad is footin’ the bill.”

“I’ll get Chrissie on it.”

Aaron thinks to Robert’s facility with money and convincing people to help him out. “Get her to catch her sister so we’ve got leverage. Robert can work the financial angle, figure out who’s funding it.”

“Oh it’s Robert now, is it?” Cain’s voice is teasing over the phone.

Aaron’s suddenly defensive, growling into the phone, “You lot wanted me to get close, this is me getting close.”

He hangs up, feels the lies he’s letting Robert believe push down on him. Feels the way his deceit is pushing up against his chest and worming its way between his ribs.

He swallows the emotions, bottling them up inside him, and walks back into the room to Robert.

——

_Clean energy scientists in California have made a massive breakthrough for solar technology. The new panels are far more efficient and are able to absorb and utilize a wider spectrum of energy. The lead researcher credits inspiration for the innovation to skin tissue samples taken from a mutant who was known to create their own energy solely from the sun. The scientists were able to chemically replicate some of the structures from within the mutant’s cells and place them between glass sheets, thereby creating smaller, lighter, and more efficient panels. They hope this method can be improved upon and made considerably cheaper within the next year, and are already working on installing it into some of the panels on the International Space Station._

——

Aaron learns that when Robert’s focused on something he wants, he’s unrelenting. He settles into the work of hunting down Rebecca’s funders while Aaron reports in to Graham about Connor, showing him the footage they found, even that circumstantial evidence enough to convince the older man.

According to Connor’s passport information, he’s already flown back to London, right into Chrissie’s territory. Aaron would feel bad for the man if he hadn’t tried to kill Robert. He can’t imagine the interrogation by Ms. White will be a pleasant one.

He’s not got the mind for paper trails like Robert does, so he busies himself making official requests for documents that are granted with remarkable alacrity. It seems everyone wants this solved as soon as possible, the fear mounting on the U.N. security council threatening to derail important initiatives beyond Jack’s mutant bill.

By late afternoon, exhaustion hits Aaron like a ton of bricks, the last few days catching up to him. He’s dead on his feet, his hip and arm throbbing with pain. He returns to the conference room with his third cup of tea in the last hour.

Robert looks up from his computer. “You look knackered.”

Aaron snorts, scrubbing his face with his hand. His beard’s grown a bit too long. He can’t quite remember when he trimmed it last. “I’m fine.”

Robert’s face softens. “Well, I’m planning on moving this up to my desk. This chair is murder on my back.”

He stretches dramatically, checking his watch. “And you’re off duty in ten any way.”

Aaron frowns, looking at the time and realizing the whole day’s been absorbed by the search.

“I can help,” he protests weakly, mind filled with thoughts of his bed.

“I think we can manage for a bit while you have a kip.” Robert gathers up his laptop and pages of scrawling notes, ushering Aaron out the door and towards the stairs.

“Besides, there’s so many sponsored posts and potential leads to shell companies on Rebecca’s social media that I’ll be searching for hours yet.” Robert grumbles.

“Ya sure?” Aaron pauses at his door, guilt pulling him back. He doesn’t want to leave Robert hunting on his own.

Robert nods, standing close but too far. “I’m sure.”

He leans in a bit, his voice low and teasing, “Now, get some sleep, Dingle. Or I’ll have to suspend you without pay until you do.”

Aaron laughs, opening his door as he steps back into his room. “Graham signs my paycheck, not you.”

He closes the door on Robert’s mock offended face, turns to the bed and falls into it. He breathes in the silence of the room and the comfort of the blankets, toes off his shoes, and falls asleep.

It’s moments later when he wakes up to knocking on his door. He sits up, the room far darker than it had been. Not moments then. He glances at the clock by his bed. Three hours.

“Come in.” Aaron yawns through the word, flexing his arm to work out the stiffness that comes with lying on a bruise for too long.

Robert pushes in, balancing his laptop on his hand like a waiter as he shoves the door shut behind him. “I found it.”

He’s breathless and wild.

That sweeps all the cobwebs out of Aaron’s mind and he’s fully alert. “Who?”

Robert runs a hand through his hair nervously, “Aaron… this is bigger than we can handle.”

Aaron’s heart is in his throat. “Just tell me.”

Robert walks over, sitting down next to Aaron on the side of the bed, showing him a spreadsheet that’s unreadable for Aaron.

“It’s...” Robert inhales deeply, “It’s BioMutrix.”

Aaron’s pulse quickens. BioMutrix has the exclusive patent on three early mutant’s genetic structures and they use it to make nullifying drugs. They’re the largest anti-mutant safety gear company on the planet. Their CEO is slick and loves to equivocate, never gunning to remove mutants, but always inciting fear. Their profit is in fighting mutants, not removing the threat entirely.

If they’re going against BioMutrix, then there’s billions of dollars up against them.

Robert’s speaking, pointing to values and explaining their significance, but all Aaron can hear is the rushing of blood in his ears. If this is the fight they’re taking on, then he needs Robert to know that they’re in this together.

Aaron pushes the computer closed and tosses it onto the bed behind them. He twists, grabbing the back of Robert’s neck and pulling him in. There’s no uncertainty this time, he knows the drag of Robert’s lips against his, but it’s no less earth shattering.

The desperate cling of Robert’s hands around his ribcage, the cut of his jaw underneath Aaron’s thumb, fingertips pushed into the blonde hairs behind Robert’s ear.

Aaron’s hip is protesting the twist, but he can’t bring himself to care because Robert is exhaling a soft groan and pulling him closer, hands shifting to his waist. He goes willingly, bringing his leg over Robert’s and straddling his lap.

The new angle lets him feel the way Robert’s neck tilts up to accommodate his new height. The width of Robert’s strong thighs presses into the inner sides of his own, the contact burning brands onto his skin.

A knock on his door makes them freeze.

“Dingle, shift change ‘cause there’s some dinner tonight. You’re on camera watch in thirty,” Pete’s regretful voice calls through his door.

“Fine.” Aaron’s voice is strained, but he hopes Pete hears frustration at his boss and not the overwhelming want to have Robert all his.

They listen to Pete’s feet move away.

“I could fire him.” Robert jokes lightly, hands regretfully unclench from Aaron’s sides, smoothing the creases he has rucked in the white shirt.

Aaron chuckles, skims his nose across Robert’s, unwilling to pull back just yet, “Then I’d have his job and mine.”

They stay like that for a moment, sharing breath and looking into each other’s eyes, Aaron holding his weight up off of Robert’s legs, acutely aware how close they were to something more. Reality falling back into place around them.

“We’ll fix this.” He assures Robert, “We’ll stop them.”

Robert nods, never taking his eyes off of Aaron, “I know.”

The trust in his voice makes Aaron feel cruel, a fissure growing inside his heart.

——

_A major scandal tonight from the world of social influencers. The popular Instagramer Rebecca White, who goes by bexsunlight and is best known for travel photography and music festival fashion, has been filmed by one of her friends openly discussing her role orchestrating a series of attacks upon United Nations Security Council members. On the tape she brags that “no one expects a beautiful blonde” and that her goal is to “make people afraid of mutants.” Rumors are swirling that she personally paid for two different gunmen to aim at the children of the security council, fueled by other influencers that collaborated with her in the past. They’ve shared screenshots of conversations where she hints at ‘job prospects’ that she has leads on. We spoke to a former friend who told us that Rebecca’s been cut off financially from her family’s money for years, so this reporter is asking: who’s funding her?_

——

Aaron wakes up to excitement outside his room. He pushes the sheet down his torso and sits up, listening to the voices that are acting as his alarm.

“Vic, shh, he’s sleeping.” Robert’s voice is clear, and Aaron’s heart flutters like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Oh, sorry Aaron!” Victoria loudly whispers, ruining it by then exclaiming, “We just talked about her! How weird is that?”

“Erh, yeah. So random.” Robert’s voice isn’t convincing even through a wooden door, and Aaron looks up at the ceiling in frustration.

“Why did you want to know about her?” Victoria’s voice is suspicious and Aaron’s heart picks up. He doesn’t want to bring Victoria into all of this.

There’s the briefest of pauses before Robert speaks almost sheepishly, “I saw her picture on some influencer list and thought she looked good.”

Vic sighs audibly, “Men. You’re pigs. The lot of ya.” Based on the footsteps outside Aaron guesses she heads downstairs.

Aaron stares at the door, wondering if outside the air is laced with pheromones, or if Robert’s had so many people in his bed that the lie feels real.

He’s uncomfortable with both, Robert’s unthinking manipulation of others an ugly truth he can’t ignore forever, and the way he apparently goes through partners with ease gnawing a hollow of fear in his stomach.

He’s got no moral high ground, lying about his motivations as he is. But it doesn’t mean it won’t hurt if Robert decides Aaron’s not worth the trouble he brings.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand.

_Connor grassed. Check the news._ Cain writes.

Aaron opens his browser, sees the stories about ‘InstAssassin Rebecca White’ and her taped confession. It’s grainy and filmed from beneath, as if the phone was placed on a table, camera pointed up. The London group has done well, spreading the information to the right news sites for the most impact.

There’s no mention of BioMutrix.

_Why nothin on $? _He types out carefully, still only one handed.

While he waits for the reply he decides to check his bandages, and he’s glad the ugly scrapes have mostly scabbed over, skin surrounding them mottled with bruises. He flexes carefully, wincing but able to move everything. He can tell the bones in his elbow are bruised but healing.

The phone buzzes quietly in his sheets. _Not enough evidence yet. Need to be sure if we take them on._

Aaron nods, grateful they won’t be going after a dangerous company halfcocked. He rises and feels the ache in his hip far less sharp than yesterday.

His mum had once told him cats purr to heal their bones. That their vibrations help stimulate something and they get well sooner. Sometimes he wonders if he does that in his sleep. His injuries never seemed to last as long as his friends at school.

There’s no way to know, of course. He’d have to be tested and studied. But he refuses to become some lab rat, surrounded by men in white coats who poke and prod.

In his drawer, the second phone buzzes. He walks around the bed to pull it out.

_France and China are now votes for no._

Aaron sighs, the weight lifting a bit from his shoulders. _news on russia? _he types back.

The animated dots appear. He waits, a foolish hope growing in him that maybe his part will be unneeded. Maybe the rest of the council will kill the bill before it is even proposed. If Jack loses Russia and the United States then he’ll have none of the base countries behind him.

_Still a firm yes._

His heart sinks. He stares at the wall that separates his room from Robert’s. He needs to get him onboard, needs the bill to never come to a vote if they can’t get the support they need. He puts his head in his hands, mentally shuffling through methods of convincing him to join the resistance.

He keeps coming back to the only thing he can imagine doing: tell Robert the truth and hope he listens.

——

_Shelters in Innsbruck and Vienna are seeing a massive increase in applicants for beds since new laws put in place by the conservative Freedom Party of Austria and the Austrian People’s Party have made it possible for families with mutant children to disown them once they begin presenting as powered. The Christian Austrian People’s Party backed the initiatives by the Freedom Party in part due to recent statements by some of the more radical members of both the Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church in Austria. Many of these now overburdened shelters are turning to the community for funding, and some have begun crowdfunding campaigns. Many of these campaigns are going viral as images of mutants as young as five being taken in have pulled on the heartstrings of the internet._

——

Robert’s rescheduled meetings eat up most of the day, and Aaron spends what feels like hours standing outside various sleek glass doors, eyes flicking between Robert and some nameless suit chatting about investments.

He’s grateful for the distraction of normalcy, a chance to think about how he can tell Robert who he is and why Robert should still trust him despite the weeks of omission.

Robert’s good at his job, the slick one sided smiles he throws at his clients charming instead of smarmy, the way he fills a room captivating, not empty bravado. Aaron’s struck at times by how little Robert uses his powers in these meetings, how well he sells and cajoles without any biological enhancements.

It doesn’t mean he never uses it. Aaron can feel the slick slide as Robert convinces a few extra zeros onto checks, gets people to agree to a riskier strategy with promises of higher rewards. It sticks like toffee to his skin, a constant reminder of the power Robert wields.

The last meeting has ended with signatures and handshakes, and Robert’s all puffed up, toothy smile sneaking out as they ride the elevator down.

He turns to Aaron, sure of himself and enticing, “I think today’s work deserves a drink.”

Aaron lets himself get swept up in the undertow that is Robert Sugden, “Alright."

Robert smiles, leaning into Aaron’s space, “There’s a quiet bar a few blocks from the house. We could walk there. Make a night of it.”

Aaron swallows, imagines an evening where they’re just together, away from the prying eyes of Graham’s cameras and the ever present threat of Jack Sugden. He nods quickly, knows he looks overeager but can’t bring himself to care. He wants to give himself this one night before he probably loses Robert to the truth.

The elevator door pings open, marble lobby before them echoey and bustling with strangers. Aaron’s instantly on alert, ushering Robert through the crowd with one hand hovering on his lower back as they move through the turnstiles that restrict access.

The ride back to the house is quiet, both of them keyed up on the idea of a few stolen hours. Aaron distracts himself by looking up reports on the Rebecca White fallout, occasionally leaning over to show Robert something on his screen and lingering longer each time they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder.

“Still can’t believe Connor turned on her,” Robert murmurs next to him.

Aaron clears his throat. “Must’ve had a change of heart or sommat.” He hasn’t found a way to tell Robert the whole story without revealing too much. Hasn’t even heard the whole story from Cain, assumes Connor learned some hard truths from mutants when he landed.

Robert goes even quieter, voice laced with guilt, “I may have had something to do with that.”

Aaron pulls back to look at him in surprise.

Robert is looking down, averting Aaron’s gaze. “I messaged him. Told him I knew what he’d done.”

Aaron blinks, utterly blindsided. “You what?”

“I texted him while you were napping. I was getting nowhere on BioMutrix and I needed to do something.” He’s running his words together.

Aaron puts a gentle hand on his thigh, “You–” He squeezes lightly, voice awed, “You got him to turn on her.”

Robert looks taken aback, like he was expecting Aaron to lose it at him. “But if he’d told Rebecca we were on to her–”

Aaron hasn’t even considered that, his chest too warm with pride at Robert’s bravery to consider the alternatives. “But he didn’t.”

Robert scan’s Aaron’s face, then nods. “You’re right.”

“When are ya gonna learn I’m always right?” Aaron playfully smacks Robert’s leg, noticing they’re driving up to the house and pulling back onto his side of the car.

Robert laughs, “Just who’s in charge here?”

Aaron snorts, leaning back in close. “That’d be me.” And with that he opens his door, gets out, and checks the surroundings while Robert climbs out on his side.

“Well then, _boss_,” Robert’s voice is teasing as they walk up the stairs together, “Why don’t you go report the plan so we can get our drinks in?”

Aaron nods, anticipation prickling under his skin. He heads to the office, finds it empty apart from a very bored looking Pete who is staring at the monitors.

“Headed out with Sugden to get dinner. Wants to walk, so I’ll have my phone, but no driver.”

Pete glances at the schedule on the wall. “But you’re off tonight.”

Aaron shrugs, “Sugdens.”

Pete nods understandingly. “Let us know if you need help.”

Aaron laughs, waving him off. “I’ve got him well in hand.” He turns and heads out the door.

Back in the front hall, Robert’s removed his tie, exposing a bit of the bottom of his throat and making Aaron’s eyes zero in on the patch, moved by a square centimeter of pale skin.

He grabs his and Robert’s scarves off the coat rack, tossing Robert his, and opens the door, gesturing outside. “Where to?”

——

_In an intensely personal and moving interview with GQ, Robert Downey Jr has opened up about living as someone with the mutant gene. “I’m lucky, my power is something I can conceal from everyone, but it’s painful. It’s hard every day to lie to coworkers and fans, to hope a flair up won’t impact filming. I self medicated early in my career with drugs and alcohol, but since then I’ve worked to come to terms with myself through therapy and meditation. Opening up to my friends and family has been life changing for me.” He goes on to say that he knows why some people live with the secret for so long. “It’s hard. People look at you different. And sometimes it’s unsafe, even for me. Like I said, I’m lucky, but plenty of people around the world would be at risk if anyone knew, but I am hopeful that that can and will change in the coming decade.” _

——

The short walk is cold but bearable with Robert tall and warm next to him, shoulder bumping his as they share the sidewalk.

The pub is small, and down a short flight of stairs from the street, so it’s muffled from the city by the foundation. They’re shown to a small table, seats close enough that their knees knock lightly against each other until Robert stretches and straightens out his legs, threading an ankle between Aaron’s.

They drink their pints, chatting lightly about home and arguing over what snack to share, too early yet for dinner. They eventually order a plate of chips. When it arrives they dig in, sharing small smiles whenever their fingers brush together over them.

Aaron finds himself telling Robert about his life, letting him fill in missing parts of Aaron’s story.

“Mum owns a pub, moved in with her when I was ten. I’ve got six or seven family members like us.”

Robert’s eyes widen, “Must’ve been a madhouse.”

Aaron laughs, “I once shook every last bottle off the shelves and she was so mad she almost lit the whole mess on fire. She was lucky our Lisa can gather oxygen. Saved all of us.” He shoves a chip indelicately in his mouth.

Robert barks out a laugh, “You’re lucky the village knew to look the other way. Must’ve been nice living openly like that.”

“Our Cain was always covering up our slip ups. Made more trips to the scrapyard than’s normal. Think he slipped the workers cash to look the other way.” Aaron knocks their calves together, “How ‘bout you? Surely there’s moments when your–” he waves at Robert, “made drama?”

The way Robert’s face instantly sobers he knows he’s messed up, knows he’s hit some nerve he didn’t know was there. He wants to jump back in time to Robert’s easy laughter.

Robert sighs, leaning forward on the table towards Aaron, something sad in his eyes.

“I didn’t really use it, not consciously at least, and it’s not like yours. No one questions wanting something after talking to me.”

Something dark and bitter grabs at Aaron. “Not like mine?”

Robert’s rolling the edge of his pint glass, staring at the line of condensation it leaves on the table. “I mean it doesn’t leave broken bottles or cause fires or anything.”

He could be joking, trying to lighten the moment, but all Aaron can hear is a silent accusation.

He puts his glass down too hard. “Some of us don’t get the luxury of passing.”

Robert looks up, clearly shocked by Aaron’s reaction, “I just meant–”

“I know what you meant,” Aaron spits out, “We can’t all be harmless.”

Robert’s face goes dark and angry. “You don’t know anything about it,” he hisses.

“No? Poor Robert, gets to live his life using his power all the time. Consequence free.” Aaron’s voice is sharp and cruel. He gestures, “You could even come clean and all you’d lose is a dad.”

“Shut. Up.” Robert’s words bite at him, but Aaron’s done with following orders today.

He stands angrily, pushing the small table and making Robert’s glass nearly tip over. “I need some air.”

He pointedly doesn’t listen if Robert replies.

Stepping outside into the cold does nothing to help Aaron calm down. He sucks in deep breaths, mental map of the trains and tunnels telling him he’s not near anything that could mask him. He hates how riled up Robert makes him, how quickly he turns to needing a quake.

He stares up at the dark sky, starless due to clouds or light pollution, and concentrates on ratcheting down his adrenaline. Thinks about how it feels when he’s in control. Gives in to remembering the way Robert’s hand soothed him, the way his power felt in that moment.

He leans back against the cast iron railing around the stairs down to the bar, tapping on it and feeling the way the reverberations echo through the metal. He knows professionally he shouldn’t leave Robert alone in a bar, but based on his recent cock-up he’s not going to need a recommendation after this job ends. He’ll probably be in some maximum security facility facing trial for war crimes.

The only chance he has of having a future is if he apologizes to Robert. He closes his eyes, wringing the rail in his hands. If he’s honest with himself he also leapt into a fight Robert had had no intention of starting.

Robert walks up the stairs, jaw clenched and collar high against the wind. He doesn’t look over at Aaron, just walks to the small park across from the bar and sits down on a bench. He’s sitting on one end, extending a silent invitation to join him.

Aaron walks over and sits down, far more space between them than usual.

“I shouldn’t’ve said all that,” he mumbles.

Robert looks over at him and then back to straight in front of him, still tight and constricted.

“I know you’ve got plenty to lose even with a safe power,” Aaron says, a bit louder, inching closer to try and bridge the gap that feels like miles.

Robert’s face crumples, chin wobbling just a bit as he blurts out, “Mine got my mum killed.”

His voice is so broken that Aaron can’t do anything but slide over and wrap him in a hug. Tries to hug the fifteen year old boy inside him.

Robert resists for a moment, stiff and unbending, so Aaron turns his head, whispering against his shoulder, “You were just a kid.”

With those words whatever resolve holding Robert steady is used up and he lets out a small sob, burying his nose into the crook of Aaron’s shoulder and fisting his hands into the thick wool of his jacket. Aaron holds on tight, hands splayed across his back, chin over Robert’s shoulder.

After a few silent moments, Robert loosens his hold and pulls back slightly. Even in the dim light of the streetlights Aaron can tell his eyes are red, the tear tracks on his cheeks catching the light slightly.

They sit there, Aaron holding lightly on Robert’s wrists, Robert staring seemingly through Aaron’s chest into the middle distance.

They stay still for so long that Aaron’s almost startled by Robert’s voice, soft and unsure. “I was fifteen. This boy from another school and I met at a debate event. We’d argued against each other and then he walked past me in the hall after. He made me so _mad_. I teased him and he shoved me against the wall and I knew...”

He trails off, mind slipping back into the past.

Aaron slides his hands down to tangle them with Robert’s fingers. “You liked him?”

Robert nods, mouth a tight line, clenches his fingers a bit around Aaron’s. “We talked on MSN, met at a few more debates. And then one day he let me know he’d be in my neighborhood staying with his cousin for a week. So I chose a day and faked being ill.”

Aaron can picture it; gangly Robert all bundled in bed, sweaty and anxious to meet a boy, nerves helping him sell feeling weak and feverish.

Robert licks his lips. “My mum wanted to stay with me. She was so worried I was really poorly.” His voice cracks a little.

“I told her I just wanted to sleep all day. I _made_ her leave me, convinced her she needed to get work done.” The pain in Robert’s voice is heartbreaking.

Aaron can’t bear it, he brings his hands around Robert’s clutching them together. “You weren’t to know, you couldn’t’ve predicted that.”

“If I weren’t like this she’d still be alive.” The hollow way Robert says it hurts Aaron. So much self-loathing wrapped in the sentence.

Aaron’s heart aches for the young man who convinced himself of that. “It wasn’t you. It was that boy who lost it. He didn’t have control and he killed people. It’s on him.”

Robert still can’t meet Aaron’s eyes, just sits there with his head bowed, hands trembling between Aaron’s. They sit together in the chilly air for a minute, Aaron trying to imagine the pain Robert’s kept inside for more than a decade.

Robert finally barely breathes out, “I don’t deserve you.”

Aaron’s skin goes cold, every molecule in his being screaming at him. “Don’t say that.”

Robert finally looks up. “No, I mean it. I’m not a good man, but you make me want to be better.”

Aaron drops his hands, making Robert gasp in surprise and hurt, and pushes himself back on the bench. “Stop.”

“Aaron, what are you–” He’s reaching out to Aaron, trying to pull him back.

Aaron has to stand, can’t sit while he says the words, “I’m so sorry.”

Robert’s brow is furrowed in confusion. “I know, you said–”

Aaron interrupts him, needing to get the words out while he still can, “No. I’m sorry because I’ve been lyin’ to ya, Robert.”

Robert freezes, hands lowering. “What? What are you talking about?”

Aaron paces, wringing his hands. “I work for the mutant resistance. We’re fighting your dad’s bill, and they…”

He stills, needs to face Robert for this bit, “They sent me to work on you.”

Robert’s gone still as stone, face lifeless and hard. “Why you?” he grits out.

Aaron’s mouth opens and closes.

Robert stands, moving in close to Aaron, eyes cold and teeth bare. “Did they send you to seduce me? A little bit of rough I’d do anything to hide from my father?”

Aaron’s frozen, doesn’t know how to tell Robert why he’s the right choice, the act of murdering his father too deep a shame to bring to light in the moment.

Robert keeps spitting hatred at him, “You must have thought you won the lottery when you got this assignment; play the hero a couple of times, get off, _and_ bring down my father.”

Aaron shakes his head, “No! I–”

“Save it, Aaron. You used me. Got me talking, and for what? So you could hold it over me when the time comes?”

Aaron’s shaking, taking in the words Robert’s aiming at him and knowing he deserves each of them, the wounds they leave painful. He reaches out for Robert. “I wouldn’t! I couldn’t go on without you knowing.”

Robert pushes his hands away, voice detached and expression chillingly distant. “I want Barton for my guard until you can sort out a believable excuse to go home with whatever organization you actually work for.” He pauses. “I don’t want Jack to know any of this.”

It’s as good a response as Aaron could have hoped for, leaving the Sugdens alive and undiscovered. He nods silently.

The walk back to the house is silent, Aaron’s heartbeat thudding with every heavy step he takes.

Robert still won’t make eye contact with him as he closes his door firmly, and Aaron moves into his own room, listening to the sounds of Robert getting ready.

If he’s going to get fired, he at least needs Robert to know the feelings were real. He sits down and starts writing.

——

_A protected area in Madagascar has posted a very unique job opportunity that’s making waves online. They need a person to help a number of young orphaned lemurs learn the skills and socialization before being reintroduced to the wild population. The job includes room and board for a full year, and asks for the ability to calm animals or communicate more fully with them than average humans. Their previous keeper has the genetic benefit of producing calming smells for animals, and has been hired away by Pretoria Zoo, the largest zoo in Africa, in order to help them rehabilitate a number of big cats that were seized from an abusive breeder._

——

Aaron spends most of the night lying on his side and staring at the wall that separates his and Robert’s room.

He’s never been one for words, and he needs whatever he says to Robert to be perfect. There’s crumpled bits of paper with notes on them nearly filling his small bin and he’s nowhere near where he should be.

At two, he remembers he should probably make Cain aware of how spectacularly he has failed his assignment, but he can’t make himself reach over and grab his phone, can’t quite force himself to give in and admit that it’s done.

That they’re done before they even really had a chance to start.

He wakes up feeling dry and cracked, knows not to look at himself in the mirror as he gets dressed because he’ll look as bad as he feels. He splashes water on his face and takes some paracetamol, hopes that with a hot drink and some breakfast he’ll be halfway decent at his job.

Robert’s in the kitchen when he walks in, looking tense and worn. Aaron goes to open his mouth as Robert pushes past him out the door, coffee mug still in hand.

The cold on his skin after Robert’s touch is bone deep. He swallows, appetite gone, and grabs a mug, hoping the tea at least will warm him.

Graham walks in, eyes unreadable and eerily calm as always. “Dingle, you’ve been moved to Ms. Sugden’s duty today. Barton will take over your role.”

There’s nothing in his voice that shows his emotions about the change.

Aaron nods silently, feels the creak of his jaw as he clenches it. Robert works fast when motivated.

He spends the day with Vic who shoots him questioning looks every so often, not convinced by the excuse Robert apparently gave that he ‘just needs a change.’

They’re sitting in the car on her way to work where Aaron will be posted by the door to the back alley while she does the lunch prep work when she finally speaks, “I thought you two were mates?”

Aaron frowns, unsure of what they were, but knowing they were never that. “Miss?”

She rolls her eyes, “You and Robert. I thought you were getting on. He usually swaps his guard every night.”

Aaron wants to snap at her to mind her own business, but at the mention of Robert’s name his chest constricts and he feels weak. So he shrugs noncommittally, unwilling to blame any of this mess on Robert’s perceived flakiness.

He’s grateful when she huffs and lets it drop.

Aaron’s phone buzzes with his daily text from Cain, _update._

He swallows, mind flashing to the way Robert had nearly shouted, “You used me,” and can’t think of what to say back. He knows if he leaves it he’ll get a call, and he can’t lie well enough to make it through that, so he does what he can: _None._

When they return from a long boring lunch shift, Pete is in the hall looking less happy than Aaron’s ever seen him.

He points a finger at Aaron. “He’s yours again tomorrow, he does my head in.”

Aaron can’t help himself. “What?”

“He’s been in a strop all day. Wanted some particular drink, refused to follow the schedule.” Pete makes a sound of annoyance, “Give me hours of boring alley guard duty over one more minute with him.”

Aaron has a moment where he feels inexpressibly fond of how much of a nightmare Robert is, but Pete doesn’t need to know that.

“Bring it up with Graham, he’s in charge,” he shrugs, a glimmer of hope glowing that he might have an opportunity to talk to Robert.

Pete shakes his head, “Already did. He said it’s Sugden’s choice.”

He looks at Aaron meaningfully. “Fix this or I’m spilling his tumeric latte on his new suit.”

Aaron feels the tremor bubbling in his chest at those words, because he doesn’t think he can.


	3. Quake

_ _

_Genetic scientists have fully sequenced five different mutant’s genetic codes and compared it with that of close relatives who do not carry the gene. It was not understood until this study, how mutants were born to non mutant families. But scientists were able to isolate a sequence that points towards the mutation being a recessive trait in millions of people across the globe. This news means that people can be carriers of the gene for generations without any knowledge, and that if two carriers have a child the chance of a mutant is one in four. Scientists say there’s still much to study, but that if the numbers are as high as they believe, that as much as seven percent of the population could be mutants, and the number of people with carrier genes is far higher than that. This means that current knowledge of mutant abilities is well underfunded world wide, as most previous estimates placed the mutant population at around one or two percent at most._

——

It is past ten by the time Aaron works out what he needs to tell Robert. He knocks on his bedroom door and gets no response. When he knocks harder he can hear Robert walk up to the door and stop.

Robert’s voice is muffled by the door but the anger is clear, “Piss off.”

“Robert, please. Just let me–” He’s trying to stay quiet, trying not to draw the attention of Vic or Pete mere meters away.

The door opens. Robert looks disdainfully at Aaron, wearing a white T-shirt that’s slightly loose at the neck. It draws Aaron’s eye to the bit of collarbone it hints at.

“Get away from my door or I’m done giving you the kindness of quitting.” He keeps his voice low, looks over Aaron’s shoulder at the other doors rather than at him.

Aaron tries to meet his eyes, thinks of all the words he needs to say and can’t in this narrow hallway where anyone can overhear.

He steps back, chin down, and nods.

There’s something sad in Robert’s eyes for a flash before he schools his face back to sneering condescension.

Robert doesn’t slam the door, but the finality of the click of the latch feels like it. Aaron returns to his room, hears Robert moving around again, hears his shaky sigh.

He looks around the room, sees the crumpled up apologies he’s thrown away, and feels the pinpricks of tears at the corner of his eyes. He knows he’s gone and ruined it all, knows he’s not worthy of being heard out.

He thinks back to the trust Robert gave him as soon as he knew about Aaron. He could have stayed silent in response, or worse, held it over Aaron’s head. Could have concealed his nature.

The memory makes a black pit open up in Aaron’s chest. The crushing weight makes him want to shake a city down around himself and live within the rubble he creates.

He sits with his back against their shared wall, crown of his head resting against the plaster. He draws his knees up, resting his wrists on them, body curved into a loose ball.

“I’m so sorry,” he says to the room, and thinks Robert can hear him by the way his movements seem to stop.

He draws in a shuddering breath, truth finally spilling out from him, “I really did grow up in a family of mutants. Everything I told you about them is true.”

He swallows, knows he owes Robert more. “When I was fifteen I was running with a bad crowd, the type that get caught eventually. My uncle Cain caught me nicking some tools from his garage. I thought he’d kill me. I was so _angry_ at the world, so ready to crack it open.”

He sighs, remembering the shockwave he sent at Cain, a desperate attempt to get out, to run. Cain hadn’t even shifted.

“He told me that people had started passing laws. That if I didn’t sort myself out I’d get tested and they’d never let me out.” He laughs humorlessly, “Y’know, they have a special place for kids who can bring a prison down around them.”

He studies his nails, hoping Robert hears the trust he’s pouring through the wall, “My dad used to tell me if I wasn’t good, if I didn’t obey, he’d hand me over to the men to put me in The Pit. I didn’t know that it’s a real place ‘til years later. The unbreakable cage for people like me.”

He can’t keep the tremble of fear from his voice, “Cain told me they were starting to put young offenders down there, that the only way to fight it was to stay low and try and work in the grey. He said he knew some other people who would find me work, help me hide, and all I needed was to help the cause.”

He shifts his knee, grounds himself. “If you knew our Cain, the whole idealist thing… it isn’t him. But he’s a survivor. And what matters most to him is family.”

“They helped me find work, called in favors to get me working permits. Found me places I could conceal my quakes.” He closes his eyes, thinks of a twentieth birthday by the sea in a secluded cove, ice cold sand rippling out around him in waves.

“Recently the patrols got worse. More of us were disappearing. Cain told me I could do something. Told me about you.”

Aaron clears his throat, not used to letting so much out, but knows Robert deserves this. He doesn’t have much to offer, but he can give this.

“And you were everything I can’t be. Everything I’ve spent the past twenty five years wanting and hating. You were so smug and cocky, and I just _knew_ what you’d be like.”

His heart is racing, “And I was right. You’re arrogant and slick. You use your ability like it’s nothing and you get what you want.”

He closes his eyes, feeling the way he’s failed at every turn. “And all I was supposed to do was to get you to change his mind, but all I wanted was to know you.”

“I’m not meant for this work,” he mumbles, as he shifts his weight, turns more towards the wall, resting his cheek against the paper. “Until Connor shot at you I thought I could keep it separate. Could pretend it was just…”

He hits his head against the wall, the tears trailing down his cheeks. “You get everything you want, and I just…”

He sniffs, “I just wanted you to want me.”

He waits for a beat and then pushes himself to his feet, ears straining for any sign at all that Robert listened.

There’s nothing.

He turns to the wall, bracing his forearms on it in defeat. “Tomorrow’s the last day I’ll work for ya. I’ll go after that, say my uncle died or sommat.”

He clears his throat, whispers, “I’m so sorry, Rob.”

He’s shaken and empty, wrung out. When he climbs into bed he at least knows Robert can’t hear him cry.

——

_Star Cross, a new indie film about a woman falling for a powerful mutant against her family’s wishes, premiered this week, and is the first of its kind to have an openly mutant actor as the male lead. Critical acclaim for the film and its handling of the subject matter led to it being accepted and lauded at the Cannes Film Festival. The New York Times calls it “brave in its depiction of an everyday love in a complex time” and applauds it as “a powerful look at the realities of the world.” Some family safety groups have called for a boycott, fearing the film’s romanticization of relationships that could endanger the non-mutant participant, but this has not stopped viewers from flocking to theaters this winter. There’s rumors it will be heavily favored at the Golden Globes and the Oscars._

——

Aaron wakes up feeling like the wrong words could make him create a new tectonic plate. He’s brittle and sharp, his reserves crumbling inside.

He knows Robert’s schedule, knows there’s nothing on until nine, and if he goes for a run now he just might make it back with time to tell Cain.

He can’t think of Chrissie. His lungs feel like they’re frozen again when he even begins to consider her reaction.

He shoves aside the knowledge that she’ll tell him he can’t get on a plane until he’s shaken apart the United Nations. Squashes it into a corner of his mind, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s looked at the building, is pretty sure he’ll be swallowed up by the destruction, an ending he welcomes when faced with the alternatives.

He’s already composing the warning he’ll send Robert to keep him away, a strike for the resistance not worth Robert’s life.

Aaron inhales deeply, pulling on his running gear and hanging his headphones around his neck. He needs to store everything up, cage it within himself, guarded by runs and tiny releases.

He sits on his bed, pulls shoes on, and listens for Robert. There’s small shuffles that could be him turning over in his bed or slowly waking up.

Walking over to his door feels strangely distant and cottony, so wrung out from days of pain and insufficient sleep. He hopes the rush of endorphins running supplies will fuel him enough for his last day protecting Robert.

It’s pathetic that he knows he’ll never forgive himself if anything happens to the other man.

He opens the door, turning to pass Robert’s on his way down the stairs. It swings open, as if Robert’s been waiting on the other side, ears pricked to Aaron’s movements.

Robert grabs his upper arm, fingers gripping into his bicep. “Inside, now,” he growls, pulling Aaron into his room.

Aaron, still fuzzy with exhaustion, lets himself be dragged inside, something in Robert’s tone leaving no room for questions.

The door slams shut behind him and Robert crowds him up against it, using every inch of height he has to his advantage. Aaron has to tilt his head up to look at Robert in the eyes, and he can’t avoid the spark of want he feels deep in his gut at being so close to him again.

Robert’s eyes flick down to his lips and Aaron’s breath hitches as he lets himself take in the way Robert is pushing his biceps back into the door.

“Robert–” He barely gets the word out before Robert’s brought his hands up to frame his jaw, silencing him with a kiss.

It’s wild, Robert’s mouth burning smudges across his own. Aaron moves to grab onto Robert’s hips, pulling him flush against himself and relying on Robert’s weight and strength to help him know this moment is real.

He doesn’t know where this is going, but he’ll take anything Robert’s offering.

Aaron pushes his fingers into Robert’s sides, holding tight as he deepens the kiss. He feels the deep rumble of a groan pulled from Robert echo through him. Allows a tiny pulse of his power to make them both tremble.

Robert’s hands move, one threading into the hair at the back of his head, forearm pressing into Aaron’s collarbone. The other shifts lower, finding the zipper on Aaron’s hoodie and pulling it down before pushing his shirt up, large hand searing paths into the muscles on Aaron’s stomach and side. The sensation making Aaron pull his head back and gasp, allowing Robert’s lips to move down his neck.

The brush of teeth on his pulse point makes him pull on Robert’s shirt, rucking it up as he scrambles for more skin. He drinks in the feeling of Robert’s inhalations under his hands, quickly shifting to the muscles of his back, fingers coming to rest in the dip of Robert’s spine.

Robert shifts, one leg now between Aaron’s, a roll of his hips confirming he’s as affected as Aaron is. He returns to Aaron’s mouth, hand shifting from the back of his head to Aaron’s neck, thumb pushing lightly into the soft spot under his Adam’s apple so Aaron can feel the pressure when he swallows. He drags his fingertips down Robert’s spine, can almost picture the faint red lines tracked over freckled skin.

If this is his one chance, he wants to see Robert. Can’t leave without giving into that final selfish need.

He shoves Robert’s shirt higher, pulls away to bring it up over his head, feels the loss of Robert’s hands on him as they thread through the sleeves. Aaron looks at the broad chest, smatters of freckles drawing his eye to each speck. Across one side is a large yellowing bruise that makes him start. It’s where one of his hands had been grasping, ignorant of the pain it was causing.

Robert sees what he’s staring at and brings down his arm to hide the spread of mottled colors. “It’s nothing.”

Aaron puts his palm against it, smoothes a caress over the skin. “S’from the shooting?”

Robert’s swallows at the tenderness, nodding, and brings a hand to Aaron’s cheek. “Better than the alternative.”

He leans back in, kiss less desperate this time. Touch more lingering. There’s something deeper to it, a whisper of emotion against his lips.

Aaron melts, a glimmer of hope that Robert had heard his words the night before leading him to loop his arms around Robert’s neck, lick his way into his mouth, and push him back towards the bed. He’s not having whatever this is happen against a door.

Robert takes two stumbling steps back, trying to push the hoodie off of Aaron’s shoulders as he moves blindly, until he spins them, voice gruff as he tightens his grasp around the thick cotton, “Get this off.”

Aaron happily lets the layer spill off his shoulders, shrugging it onto the ground as he backs up. He crosses his arms and roughly pulls his running shirt off, no attempt at slow seduction. He needs Robert’s touch back.

Robert looks him up and down, eyes dark, before pushing back into Aaron’s space, both hands pushing, grasping, trying to maneuver them onto the bed without breaking contact.

Aaron hits the mattress, a tangle of sheets under his shoulder blades, and the inferno that is Robert at his front. They twist together, Aaron toeing his shoes off blindly while admiring the way Robert’s skin pinks under his touch.

Robert’s got his knees bracketing Aaron’s thighs, keeping his weight off him with braced elbows, and Aaron can’t stand the distance, needs to feel the press of him. He sends out a push into the bed, rumbling it so Robert’s off balance and he can push them over, chest flush against Robert’s.

“God,” Robert’s breathless, “The way it _feels_ when you do that.”

Aaron mouths at Robert’s jaw, pressing kisses onto the soft skin of his neck, and purrs his power into Robert, feeling it thrumming along his veins.

“Fuck,” Robert gasps beautifully into his ear, fingers clenching into Aaron’s sides and hips rolling. “Aaron.”

Aaron’s never heard his name said like that before, like it’s a cross between a prayer and a curse, drawn from Robert’s throat almost against his will. He licks a path along Robert’s neck, feels the vibrations of the responding groan under his tongue.

He places one hand on Robert’s stomach, little finger barely skimming the edge of his waistband. He presses down lightly, pinning him to the bed.

Aaron focuses his pulses through his hand into the skin beneath, kissing his way across Robert’s shoulder. He feels the way Robert’s muscles tense beneath his palm.

Robert’s arm comes up, hand wrapping around the ball of his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blade. He’s panting into Aaron’s collarbone, breath hot and wet on his skin.

Aaron lets his hand travel lower, keeps it pressed against Robert’s skin while the tips of his fingers skim under the elastic band. Robert’s hand shifts to mirror his, grabbing into the fabric at Aaron’s hip and tugging it down.

Aaron’s been so distracted by unravelling Robert, he’s barely noticed how affected he is. But Robert’s hand is like a lightning rod for his focus, leaving him suddenly unable to think of anything but how they’d both feel on every part of him.

He pulls back, Robert keening quietly at the loss of contact but quickly catching on as Aaron undresses him fully and kisses a promise onto his hip bone as he does. He sits back for a second, admiring the man in front of him, hair mussed and chest heaving. Lets himself take in every dip and plane of him before slipping off his joggers.

Lying back on top of Robert is electric, Aaron slotting in perfectly between Robert’s thighs. Robert looks up at him, pupils blown wide, and pulls him down, nips at his lower lip and soothes it with his tongue.

Aaron keeps his body still, trading lazy kisses as he tries to calm himself down enough to move. Robert’s hands trace patterns on his neck, every shift of his hips making Aaron’s heart race.

He places one hand on the crease where Robert’s hip meets his thigh, teasingly close, and tries to time his waves to the rolls of his hips.

Robert’s stopped forming words, voice broken into moans and gasps.

Aaron feels a new surge of desire, knowing he can take Robert apart like this. He watches the way Robert’s eyes squeeze shut, throat exposed, hands clutching at Aaron’s arms, sides, neck in desperation. Aaron shifts his hand, concentrating on sending waves through his palm, feels the way Robert’s muscles flutter in response. 

There’s a change in the air, Robert’s pheromones filling his senses. He’s nosing at Aaron’s beard, seemingly unaware of his power seeping out, hands clenching at the back of Aaron’s thighs.

“I’m close,” Robert’s low groan resonates in Aaron’s bones.

The words ignite something in him, a steady buzz building at the base of his spine and making the arm he’s using to prop himself up shake as he reaches the limit of his stamina.

The next words are full of the syrupy sweetness of power. “Come with me.”

Feeling the draw of Robert’s power, how much he wants Aaron, his need radiating from his pores and twisting around them, it’s intoxicating.

Aaron doesn’t need to let the power of the words affect him, he’s so overcome by the reality of Robert that he’s already gone, voice breaking over a cry of “Robert.”

——

_A mutant artist collective in Jaipur is working to change the minds of the city through massive public art projects that highlight the humanity at the core of mutants. The group, called Naya, which means ‘new’ in Hindi, has begun the process of redesigning the facades of several businesses across the city to include highly stylized portraits of people who live within the city, that when illuminated, contain imagery depicting their abilities. So far there are only six of these installations, but Naya plans on having at least twenty, and is interested in making a network of them throughout India. There have been reports of a few young royals helping to fund and protect Naya from local backlash, pointing to a new mindset about mutants in the future for India._

——

They lie, face to face, Robert’s hand on Aaron’s cheek, carding his fingers through the short hairs on his temple. Aaron stays quiet, holding Robert’s gaze, unsure of his position.

Was this a one off? Just something Robert needed done before Aaron leaves?

He swallows nervously, tries not to let his uncertainty reach his eyes. If this is all he gets, he wants it for as long as possible. He savors the quiet room lit in the dusty blues of a November morning, the warm duvet haphazardly thrown across them both, the soft touch of Robert’s hand.

When Robert opens his mouth Aaron’s heart drops into his stomach. He tenses, bracing himself for the worst.

“I don’t want you getting hurt,” Robert whispers, unwilling to break the peace of the room.

Aaron frowns, props himself up on one elbow to fully see Robert’s face without a pillow obscuring half an eye.

Robert licks his lips, tries again. “By my father. I…”

He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them, holding Aaron’s gaze. “I don’t want you hurt by what he does.”

Aaron feels hope bubbling in his chest, popping and bursting in his throat. He knows Robert listened to him the night before. That he heard it all. “Do you wanna do sommat about it?”

There’s a long silence, Robert worrying with the sheets and Aaron holding himself still, letting Robert make the choice on his own.

“Him and Vic, they’re all I have.” Robert’s voice is small, “But mum…”

He sighs, “She wouldn’t have wanted this in her name.”

His jaw tightens. “And I can’t let him take more from me.”

He meets Aaron’s eyes. “I think you’re putting your faith in the wrong man. Jack Sugden has never cared about what I want.” His eyes turn sad. “And I don’t think I can get him to.”

“I think you can.” It feels like the words are out of Aaron’s mouth before he even thinks them.

Robert looks at him, brow creased with worry. “But if I can’t?”

Aaron puts a hand on Robert’s chest, voice deep as he assures him, “All they’re asking is for you to try.”

Robert smiles lopsidedly, nods ever so slightly. He brings a hand up to cover Aaron’s, thumb stroking across the bumps of his knuckles as he looks at him through half closed eyes. “And what are you asking?”

Aaron thinks back to what he said, feels his face heat at his confessions. He looks down and mumbles, “Ya heard it all last night.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to say anything back.” Robert’s voice is fond and teasing, head quirked slightly as he tries to catch Aaron’s eye.

Aaron rolls over, resting his body half on Robert, tries to shrug, “Not my problem.”

Robert’s hand comes down to stroke along Aaron’s side, sending a shiver across his skin. He lets them stay like that for a moment. Lets them settle into being together.

Then, he seems to come to some conclusion, bringing his hand up to Aaron’s chin and holding his gaze firmly. “No more lies.”

Aaron nods, and Robert’s green eyes go serious. “I mean it, Aaron.”

“I’ve told ya everythi–” he cuts himself off, “Oh, wait, Chrissie.”

He sits up, wants Robert to know he’s taking the whole honesty charge seriously.

Robert frowns, pushing himself up as well, blanket bunched around his waist. He stiffens as he looks at Aaron intensely. “Chrissie?”

Aaron grimaces, “Chrissie White is in charge of the mutant resistance back home. Maybe everywhere, I’m too far down to know that,” e licks his lips, “She’s dangerous.”

“She’s why Rebecca tried to kill me.” It’s a statement, not a question, and Aaron frowns at how certain Robert sounds.

“I’ve got no clue. From what I know, Chrissie is working on her. I wouldn’t want to be Rebecca if she ever gets out of prison.” Aaron has a flash of being without senses, strangled by his body’s inability to move.

Robert considers this, face going dark for a flash, then shrugs, his voice aiming for unconcerned. “Can’t say I’m too shocked. She’s not someone I would want to cross.”

Aaron’s about to press him, to assure him he’s safe and Chrissie’s not a threat to him, that Aaron will protect him, when Robert leans in, playful smirk on his lips, as if he’s telling a juicy tidbit of gossip. “I came on to her once, at some charity thing.”

It’s Aaron’s turn to pause, distracted, his stomach swooping nervously. “What?”

“I told ya, her father’s connected!” Robert laughs, something fake at the edges of it. He leans back. “I tried to get her to let me take her to dinner, told her she’d have the time of her life, added a little push of my own.”

Aaron groans and puts his face in his hands, both at the arrogance and the risk. “Robert, you idiot, she could have killed you with a touch.”

“Well, all she did was turn me down politely.” Robert sniffs, ego clearly still a bit crumpled by the brush off. “Even wrote a check to my mother’s foundation the next month.”

Aaron looks up, mind suddenly clear of a question he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “That’s how she knew about you. She could tell.”

He’s even more impressed by the strength of the woman. Being able to feel influence is unusual, and usually comes from too much time around the power. He hopes whomever taught her the skill didn’t use it with bad intentions.

He doubts they’d have remained alive long enough to teach her anything if they had.

Robert reaches out for him, breaking him from his thoughts, from the conversation they’re having. “And then she sent you after me.”

He pulls Aaron in until they’re nose to nose, eyes crinkling at the sides with happiness. “We should get her a fruit basket.”

“Shut up,” Aaron laughs and closes the distance between them, sighing as his lips find Robert’s and he feels a smile against his own.

——

_A new drug has come on the market aimed at teenage mutants whose powers are not well managed through other means. It works as a hormone suppressant, and can help prevent the more volatile biochemistry caused by puberty, hopefully keeping young mutants from lashing out in ways they cannot control. The German pharmaceutical company, Abnova, has had success with this drug in clinical trials, and the country has not had any teenage outbursts by medicated mutants in two years. The company warns that there are side effects to the drug, particularly loss of motivation and focus, but that the benefits for mutants with destructive powers greatly outweigh the risks. Trials are set to start in countries across the world as more and more governments are working to prevent tragedies caused by young mutants who cannot yet manage their biology._

——

Robert’s at the small table in the kitchen across from him, periodically catching his eye and making fond little faces at him. It makes Aaron scrunch up his nose and blush, heat creeping up his neck as he looks down at the sandwich he’s managed to cobble together from the fridge’s sparse contents.

Aaron’s mind scans over the day’s plan. He knows that Robert has a meeting with an investor this morning and then an appointment with the United Nations to get their security photos taken and badges made. After that the day is theirs.

Aaron can’t help but let his mind track back up the stairs to Robert’s bed, rumpled duvet still askew when he snuck out ahead of Robert, all his running gear back on. He knows it’s risky, guesses he’d be let go in a moment if Jack ever found out, but they’ve hardly scratched the surface of what he wants.

Their conversation hadn’t defined them, but he thinks they’re a something now, what with the long limbs of Robert stretching into his space, warm skin making Aaron itch with the need to touch it.

Aaron’s phone buzzes, and he starts as he realizes he’s missed his check in with Cain, too distracted by the way Robert’s skin feels to send off his eight o’clock message.

He looks at Robert from beneath his eyelashes, tracks over his features and settles on his lips. They quirk up, Robert catching him looking.

He turns his attention to the phone, to three missed messages.

_update?_

_Aaron?_

_10 minutes._

He’s got nine minutes and counting until Cain calls him and if he doesn’t answer he’ll begin the work of pulling other mutants from their work to check on Aaron.

Aaron licks his lips nervously then looks up at Robert, “Can I tell them?” He gestures with his phone, hoping it’s vague enough to be inconspicuous even on camera.

Robert stills, hand on his mug, a flash of fear in his eyes. He takes a sip, settling himself, and nods. “I still think I’m a risk.”

Aaron hooks his foot behind Robert’s ankle, a poor replacement for what he wants to do: grab the man’s hand and squeeze. “I don’t.”

Robert’s cheeks pink slightly, his leg pressing back into Aaron’s.

Aaron types his message: _R’s in._

The response back is so fast Aaron’s certain Cain has his phone in his hands, waiting for Aaron to reply. _Bout time._

Aaron rolls his eyes, and Robert tilts his head, eyes questioning.

The phone buzzes again in his hands, this time it’s ringing: _RESTRICTED NUMBER_ filling the screen. Aaron sighs, feeling it’s far too early for all this, and picks up.

“Hello?”

“You’ve got five days until the bill hits the floor, Dingle.” Chrissie’s voice stops him cold, an icicle along his spine.

He’s instantly on the defensive, feeling the urge to shove her away even from across the Atlantic, “Yeah. I’m on it.”

Her small laugh makes him feel like a bit of dirt under her heel, “Well, work faster.” She sounds so like every entitled woman he’d stood behind at coffee shops that he lets his guard down, relaxing minutely.

“You don’t need me to tell you what happens if you fail.”

He’s immediately on edge again, sweat prickling at the back of his neck and his palms suddenly chilled.

Aaron swallows, mind flashing to Plan B, and his voice comes out gruffer than he means. “We won’t.”

Robert looks up at that, suddenly alert and intense, and Aaron doesn’t know why.

There’s a pause on the other end, “Hmm, I suppose I’ve got no choice but to trust you.” Her voice goes bored, “Your reports are now due every twelve hours.”

Aaron nods even though she can’t see him. “Sure.”

He’s ready to hang up, never one for manners, when she speaks again, “I’ve sent you some more documents on BioMutrix. Robert’s more than welcome to comb through them on our behalf, maybe he’ll catch something I haven’t.”

Aaron’s eyes flick over to Robert. “I’ll let him know.”

He moves to press the end call button and sees she’s already hung up.

Robert’s watching him intently.

After squirming for a moment Aaron finally asks, “What?” trusting Robert to avoid questions he shouldn’t ask.

Robert’s small smile is secretive. “We.”

Aaron cannot keep the confusion off his face. “What’s that?”

Robert leans in, still too far to touch, “You said ‘we won’t’ to something. Quite liked it.”

And with that he gets up, pushing his chair back from the table as he gathers up his cup and plate.

Aaron hates how much he’s been blushing this morning, feeling more like a schoolgirl with a crush with each passing moment, but he doesn’t have a smart reply, tongue tied by the thought that Robert believes in them.

“I’m off to get ready. Be out the door in twenty?” Robert’s gone business as usual again, and Aaron looks up to see Joe walking in, soaked in sweat from his morning run.

Aaron nods while Joe takes a drink of water and pulls a banana from the bunch, ignoring the two of them in his dismissive way that grates on Aaron’s every nerve.

Once Robert’s out the door, Joe puts his glass into the sink and then leans on his hip, peeling the banana as he disinterestedly drawls, “He’s sure got you on a short leash, Dingle. Has he also taught you sit and stay?”

Aaron stands, barely holding himself back from getting into Joe’s face. “No one asked you, Tate.”

Joe smirks, making Aaron yearn to hit him hard enough to crack his jaw. “Just making conversation.”

He takes a bite of his banana and leaves.

Aaron puts his plate and mug into the sink with a clatter, annoyance making him nearly break the glass Joe had left. He makes a silent wish that the banana will lodge in his windpipe and suffocate him before anyone notices.

——

_A massive fire last month that had been assumed to be the work of a known mutant in Lisbon has been discovered to be a copycat arsonist, Mateo Cristiano, who is not a mutant. The investigation was begun when photographs of the mutant, João Paulo, showed that he was in nearby Sintra at the time the marshals had pinpointed the beginning of the blaze. The fire claimed the lives of two older members of the community, one of whom was the arsonist’s landlady. When searching the home of Mateo, the investigators found newspaper clippings of other fires the man had started along with research on local mutants. Police plan on reopening those cases as well, and have released three mutants who had been held for as long as eight months without trial, as is common for mutants in Portuguese police custody._

——

Robert is, as it turns out, extremely interested in looking at the financial records of shell companies owned by BioMutrix. He flirts his way into an empty office space on a floor in midtown owned by the firm he works for back in London, and sets himself up at a massive conference table with an Americano and his laptop, documents around him in constantly shuffling piles.

Aaron’s watching him, unable to make heads or tails of the ways the companies are moving funds but occasionally making calls to Chrissie on Robert’s behalf with requests for new information.

He can’t help but notice the way Robert is avoiding speaking to her directly. It makes him wonder if there’s more than a rejection in their history, doubt festering in his gut. He knows he’s promised to be honest, but he hasn’t asked the same of Robert, too glad to be forgiven to be suspicious.

Robert looks up at the moment Aaron starts worrying over that thought in his mind, letting it build a tremor within his shoulders. He’s sitting with a bright highlighter cap in the corner of his mouth, flipping through and thoroughly marking printed spreadsheets. His brow is furrowed, hair a bit askew from the hand he keeps running through it.

He’s one of the most beautiful things Aaron’s ever seen.

Aaron can’t help himself as he takes a few short steps and perches on the table facing Robert. The other man spins his high backed desk chair towards Aaron while capping the marker, thighs spread wide on either side of Aaron’s nearest leg. He slouches in a languid way, elbows on the armrests, hips shifting forward in the chair.

Aaron stops himself from staring at the way the fabric stretches over Robert’s thighs by crossing his arms and flicking his head in the direction of the computer. “Getting anywhere?”

Robert looks up at him, eyes dark and considering. “You know I haven’t.”

Aaron shrugs in a way he hopes is nonchalant, shifting his weight over so he’s leaning into the pull of Robert. “Dunno, you could’ve made some silent breakthrough.”

Robert’s hands splay across his own thighs and then slowly shift a bit nearer to Aaron. “I’ve reached a stopping point, actually.”

He glances up at the clock on the wall, hands moving to Aaron’s belt loops and pulling him in closer. “Just waiting on some documents from Chrissie.”

Aaron can’t help the small frown of displeasure that crosses his face at her name.

Robert’s hands still a bit on Aaron’s hips, thumbs pressing against his belt, fingers still in the loops. He narrows his eyes. “You don’t like her much, do you?”

The bubbling murmur of uncertainty is back in Aaron’s chest, as he insists, “She’s dangerous. And I don’t like that she knows ya.”

He knows he sounds surly, but he can’t help it.

Robert’s self-satisfied smile makes Aaron want to kiss it off him. He tugs hard enough that Aaron’s knees hit the chair, Robert’s hands coming to rest on his lower back. “I told you. I asked her out, she said no. We’ve seen each other politely since.”

As he’s talking, his hands drift distractingly lower, grabbing at Aaron’s arse.

Aaron puts his hands on Robert’s shoulders, wanting so badly to just give in, let Robert’s smooth voice wrap him in assurances. He holds Robert still, pushing himself back a bit. “But ya won’t talk to her.”

The playful light goes out of Robert’s eyes a bit, his hands stilling momentarily before trying to pull Aaron in again. “She’s _your_ boss. You know her better than me, and you should get the credit when we do find something.”

It’s a poorly told lie wrapped up in a kindness, and Aaron’s stomach drops. He pulls his hands back, catching Robert’s and moving them off his hips, voice low and a building tension in his bones as he says, “That’s not it.”

Robert disagrees, area around them starting to fill with pheromones, “You deserve the praise, Aaron.”

Aaron squeezes onto Robert’s wrists, hard enough to hurt.

“Stop it,” he spits out, “You don’t get to use that on me.”

He digs his fingertips in, getting a wince from Robert.

The scent leaves the air as quickly as it came, Robert having the decency to avoid eye contact as he tries to twist his hands from Aaron’s grasp, hissing a bit as he does. Aaron digs in harder. With a voice like steel, he demands, “Tell me.”

Robert looks at him, jaw set and eyes fiery. “Let. Go.”

The fact that the order comes with no push, no pheromones tacky against his skin where they’re touching is what makes Aaron release. He shoves his hands into his pockets, and stepping back, gestures to Robert. “Well, go on.”

Robert stands, rubbing at his wrists where they’ve reddened a bit, back half turned to Aaron. “It’s nothing.”

The dismissal makes Aaron’s blood boil with anger, makes him grab at Robert’s shoulder and spin him back to get in close. “So, _you_ can lie.”

Robert’s eyes go stormy. He pushes into Aaron’s space using his every inch to lean over him, spitting “It’s not like that,” though his teeth.

Aaron’s not one to back down, fisting his hands into Robert’s suit jacket and ignoring the words Robert’s saying. “Now at least I know where I stand,” he sneers.

“Fine!” Robert shoves him back, “You want to know why I don’t want to talk to her? Because all this is my fault.” His voice is loud, filling the office, “I was angry about Chrissie saying no. I really wanted that big account, to get the firm to see my worth.”

He quiets slightly, knuckles white on the back of the chair. “And Rebecca came up to me. I’d only met her that night, and she’d made her interest clear.” He’s avoiding Aaron’s eyes. “I _shoved_ a want at her, harder than I ever have.”

He finally looks up at Aaron, paler than before, voice shaking with shame. “I told her I wanted her to make her sister’s life miserable,” he adds, slumping slightly, “Guess it worked.”

Aaron feels a wave of sick at the thought of that amount of influence, flashes to the feeling of utter helplessness he used to have as a child. He pushes it aside, tries to clear the thoughts of Gordon from his mind, to see it’s Robert in the room with him, not some long dead nightmare.

“You didn’t tell her to kill anyone.” Aaron finally grinds out, eyes on the floor.

Robert looks up, “Even you don’t sound certain about that.” He turns, facing Aaron.

“You could have died,” Robert sighs, resting his wrists on the table behind him, one knee bent, “And my bruised ego would have been the start of it.”

Hearing the regret in Robert’s voice that his father never had, Aaron looks up, takes a step forward and says, “You’re not that powerful. You could only amplify what she wanted, even if she covered it up.”

Robert’s shoulders lower even more, seeming to collapse in on himself in guilt. “But who’s to say she would’ve ever acted on it without my push?”

Aaron takes another step forward. “Who can say she wouldn’t’ve?”

Robert’s looks up, watches as Aaron moves in closer while he searches for comforting truths, “If a building is built from sommat dangerous and I lose my control, that collapse isn’t on just me.”

“But you wouldn’t want the building to come down.” Robert still looks lost and ashamed, frightened by his own abilities.

Aaron shrugs, thinking about the Mill building he’d taken down a wall of as an angry teen. “Everything gets too much sometimes. We just do more when we lash out.”

He puts a hand on Robert’s waist, tries to send a soothing purr into this ribcage, and rests his forehead against Robert’s.

There’s a sigh from both of them, and Robert’s hand comes up to his cheek. Aaron turns his head and speaks quietly into Robert’s palm, “You’re more than your power’s worst day.”

They stay like that for a moment, a twist of comfort for each other. Aaron turning over Robert’s humanity in his head while Robert pulls himself together.

Eventually Robert leans back with reluctance, finally having reconstructed his confidence. He inhales, stretching back up to his full height.

Aaron’s phone buzzes, a notification for an email from Chrissie with the requested documents attached.

Robert looks at the screen, voice resolute. “Let’s get these bastards.”

——

_The UK based company BioMutrix, which supplies the governments and police forces of some of the wealthiest nations with mutant suppressant gear, has been exposed for funding attacks on government officials and mutant activists across the globe. An unnamed whistleblower from within the company released financial documents and inter-office emails online that were later authenticated by a former lawyer who represented the company. These documents revealed that BioMutrix’s CEO had a long history of paying a number of social media influencers and some news outlets to intensify fear of mutants in order to help funding bills to pass. Most notably is the young travel socialite Rebecca White, whose plans to terrorize the U.N. came to light just this month._

——

Aaron’s woken up by the buzz of his American phone from within the drawer. He groans, the clock telling him it’s just gone six.

_US and Russia votes for no._

His heart starts beating, hope bubbling up inside him as he processes the words on his screen. The leading permanent countries of the Security Council are all now set to vote against Jack’s proposal. It’s not a done deal, his words could still compel the other representatives in the room, but even if Robert can only tone down his passion it might make the difference they need.

Aaron sits up, bares his back to the chill of the room. For the first time in a month he lets himself see a glimpse of a future, lets himself believe he might not be buried under rubble, might get to go home.

Might get to live his life how he wants.

It makes something race inside him, the possibility of a future without checking every area he goes through for hidden stone he can funnel his anxiety into. Can’t imagine a world where he could go to a licensed therapist and not get put on a watch list, not be the first to be questioned after any disaster. Not be blamed for every shudder of the earth, every crack in a foundation.

He could have some peace.

He swallows at a flash of Robert stretched across Aaron’s bed back in London, nearby underground stop amplifying and echoing the trails Aaron leaves across freckled skin.

He shakes off his fantasy, knowing they only have four days left to work on Jack, and that there’s still more to uncover on BioMutrix. Robert had sent off the worst of the paper trail last night, and the mutant group had leaked it at the start of business in London.

He checks the stock market, feels a thrill of victory when he sees that BioMutrix and three of their subsidiaries are in a deep spiral, more and more evidence of wrongdoing exposed by other news agencies now that the dam has broken.

He hears raised voices down the hall, Graham and someone else awake far too early to be business as usual, and it makes him jump up and pull on a black T-shirt and a pair of grey slacks, ready to head out if the Sugdens need to move.

Aaron pulls his door open, sees Graham has Joe pushed against the wall, voice raised and face like thunder. It’s the most emotion Aaron’s ever seen him have, and he rushes over.

“I trusted you,” Graham’s growling at the taller man, forearm shoved into his chest and pinning him in place.

Joe looks stricken for a moment, eyes searching Graham’s face for something, but then he sees Aaron approaching and his face returns to his standard sneer of contempt. “I suppose that’s on you, then.”

Graham shoves harder on his arm, pushing a grunt of pain from Joe’s mouth. “Stop. Talking.”

He turns to look at Aaron. “Tate will be leaving the Sugden’s employ this afternoon. He is not to be left alone at any point,” he informs him.

Aaron nods, “I’ll tell Barton, he’s got the day mostly free.”

“I should have had the car move a few feet farther. At least you and Robert would be out of the picture.” Joe spits at him venomously.

That stops Aaron mid move. “What?”

Graham doesn’t look shocked, just disgusted by Joe, arm pinning him in place. Joe smiles, keeping his eyes locked with Aaron. “You heard me. A bit more of a gap between the cars and you’d’ve lost him.”

Aaron feels the fury rise in his chest. He cannot lose it in front of Graham, but he’s on the precipice, roiling anger filling his chest.

He’s saved by Pete opening his door, stepping up next to Aaron. “I can take him, Graham. Dingle, go search his room.”

Graham nods, “I’ll alert Sugden.”

He moves down the hallway and walks up the stairs to Jack’s floor.

Aaron’s counting, trying to calm himself. He’s not sure what’s happening, skin tingling with adrenaline, breath short. Joe had worked with the assassins, had wanted Robert dead. He wants to collapse his chest in with a push of power, break every rib, destroy the man currently being ushered away by Pete.

A hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades. It’s an anchor point, each finger pressing into his back, bringing his attention to the sensation.

“Breathe.” Robert’s low voice is right by his ear, his warmth by Aaron’s side.

Aaron nods shakily, tries to inhale along with the man behind him.

Robert’s other hand wraps around his bare forearm. “Calm down.”

Aaron can feel Robert asking if he can use his power, can help in the way only he can. He turns a bit towards Robert, not fully facing him, keeping his eyes on the hallway for other people as he lets him. “Alright.”

Robert’s hand shifts from his back to the back of Aaron’s neck, skin on skin as much as he can.

“You can control this.” He pushes that confidence and calm into Aaron’s skin, and Aaron lets him.

It’s instantaneous. His body relaxes, heart slows to normal, tremors bundled up and safe within him.

Robert’s belief in him soothes and calms as it seeps into his bones. Aaron’s power feels smooth and placid, but his mental anger is still there. He hasn’t removed Aaron’s emotions, just helped separate it from the biological reaction.

They stand together for a second until Aaron swallows and nods slowly, “I’m fine.”

Robert lets go, stepping back a bit, and Aaron misses his touch immediately. “You were sending out,” he gestures, “pulses.”

Aaron turns, is sure he wasn’t. “What?”

Robert scrubs the back of his neck with his hand. He looks uncertain as he explains, “I don’t know, it was like the bass of music. It woke me.”

Aaron searches his memory for any scrap of evidence that power had seeped out. He finds nothing. He shakes his head, not able to worry about that just yet, and moves down the hall. “I have to search Tate’s room.”

“I’ll help ya,” Robert offers.

Aaron looks him over, taking in his sleep rumpled state. “Alright. Get dressed.”

Robert looks down at his white T-shirt and boxers as if suddenly aware of his state, and quirks a brow. “What, this not good enough for ya?” He straightens his back a bit, preening.

Aaron laughs, “I am not associating you like that,” he gestures at Robert, “with Tate’s garbage.”

Robert’s eyes go fond, and he moves to his door. “Fair enough.” He turns, hand on the handle, “You want to help?”

Aaron rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in a way that he hopes looks resolute. “No.”

Robert moves to look sad and Aaron cuts him off, unwilling to work at resisting more temptation, “Some of us have work to do. Get dressed or you’re not helping.”

“Okay, boss,” Robert answers flippantly, heading into his room.

——

_Amsterdam is hosting its first mutant march this weekend organized by the owners of three local bars and coffee shops that encourage mutant customers to feel comfortable by hiring a number of mutants whose powers enhance the experience. Vreemd, the bar that began this trend, has quickly become a draw for mutant tourists in the area, and is well known for the bartender’s genetically enhanced theatrics. The city as a whole has embraced mutant tourists, and was one of the largest cities in Europe that refused to pass legislation against the freedom of mutant inhabitants. Anti-mutant groups are planning a protest, but Dutch officials are confident they can keep the streets safe for all people._

——

Joe’s room holds no answers as to why he’s been working with Rebecca. Aaron searches every nook and cranny while Robert tries to access either Joe’s computer or his iPad.

“Try ‘I’m a knobhead,’” Aaron throws over his shoulder as he rifles through the pockets of Joe’s suits.

Robert snorts out a laugh while paging through Joe’s planner for hints, “I doubt he’s that self aware.”

Down the hall a door slams, startling both of them to look out Joe’s room.

Jack is red with anger, screaming at Graham, “How did he get past your background checks?”

Graham, to his credit, doesn’t flinch at the attack. “I’d worked with him before. All his finances and job history checked out, sir.”

“Well, did you search his room?” Jack’s voice is hard edged and booming.

“Dingle and your son are doing that as we speak,” Graham nods down the hall.

Jack looks at Joe’s room, making eye contact with Robert. He straightens, shoulders suddenly taut with pent up emotion, and walks down the hall, making Aaron’s jaw clench.

Jack enters, ignoring Aaron, and gets close to Robert, words shooting out of him like missiles, “They’re attacking us. I told you, they’ll stop at nothing.”

Robert stands smoothly, hand on his father’s shoulder, air immediately full of pheromones, voice intentionally soothing, “We already knew Rebecca wanted me dead, and BioMutrix was backing her.”

Jack shakes his head, eyes wild, “No, no, this was more than that. They’re in our home. That’s mutts, I know it.”

Robert’s eyes flick to Aaron, who’s gone still behind Jack. The scent intensifies, Robert pushing into Jack’s mind, “I’m sure it was just to get what they wanted from your vote.”

Jack tears himself away from his son, hands shaking in anger, “Exactly! This negative press about BioMutrix is playing right into their hands. They wanted the vote to fail.”

He turns to Robert, “I won’t let it. I’m the head of the council. Even if everyone votes against me I can push it through.”

Robert moves to try again, but Jack’s already at the door, moving with intensity and purpose. “I’m putting an end to this.”

The words hit Aaron like hailstones, heart pounding in his chest. He meets Robert’s eyes as Jack moves down the hall. Robert’s gone white, eyes scared and lost.

Aaron crosses the distance between them, pulling Robert over to a part of the room invisible from the hall, drags him in for an embrace, speaking into his neck, “You can do this.”

Robert’s shaking, hands grasping desperately onto Aaron’s back, “I don’t think I can. You saw him, he didn’t listen at all.”

Aaron shakes his head, “He did. He just did what he wanted with it. You’ll get to him.”

Roberts voice becomes muffled by Aaron’s collar as he presses his nose in. “He hates me, Aaron.”

Aaron can’t do anything but hold him closer. “Only because he doesn’t know ya.”

Robert stands, wrapped around Aaron for a beat longer, and then slowly lets go, eyes red rimmed and hands still shaking. There’s desperation in his voice when he says, “I mean it, Aaron. What if I can’t do this?”

Aaron bites his lip, images of choking on dust surrounded by the remains of a building making him grasp at Robert’s shoulder harder than he means to. “I know you can.”

He holds Robert’s gaze. “You want us to be free, yeah?”

Robert nods.

“Then you’ve got the want, all you need to do is find that kernel of humanity in him.” Aaron swallows, trying to hope there’s something within Jack Sugden that is still good.

The muscles across Robert’s jaw ripple as he thinks. He licks his lips, clearly still uncertain. Aaron steps back, glances towards the door. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Robert looks confused. “Why?”

“Because we can’t keep talking about this here, and we need ta make a plan.”

——

_Boston police have reopened a number of unsolved murders from the eighties after the families of two of the victims made appeals to the new Chief of Police. The appeals came after one of the lead detectives on four of the cases retired amidst rumors of anti-mutant activities and corruption. All eight victims were young mutants new to the city, and all had their throats cut before they were left in abandoned buildings near the water. The Boston Police Department is now treating these crimes as a likely serial killer, and are reaching out to other neighboring cities to look for similar patterns before or after the two year killing period._

——

Robert remains silent and thoughtful as they walk for blocks until they reach a park along the river. It’s quiet apart from people with children and the occasional runner. Aaron finds a bench that’s more protected from the wind, and sits sideways, facing Robert.

Robert looks down at his lap, hands remaining in his pockets to save them from the cold.

“I don’t think he hates ya,” Aaron says, trying to encourage Robert to speak.

Robert laughs humorlessly, “He blames me for my mum’s death and he doesn’t even know the half of it.”

Aaron’s heart aches for teenaged Robert. “You were a kid.”

Robert bundles in on himself more, shrugging his scarf up to his chin. “He came home that day, caught me and the guy,” he’s staring away from Aaron, looking at the water. “Sent him packing, was ready to leather me, when we got the call.”

Aaron waits, knows there’s more.

Robert scoffs, “Sent me off to boarding school the next year, said it was because he didn’t want to keep moving me around for his career.”

He swallows, glances at Aaron and then back to the river, “I got him drunk once. Kept bringing him Scotch, and then I asked him if he thought it was my fault.”

Aaron shifts so his knee is touching Robert’s leg, tries to help him settle.

“He denied it, but then I _asked_ him and it all came out. Said I was a disappointment, that if I hadn’t shoved her out the door she’d still be around.”

Robert’s voice breaks, eyes glassy.

“I made him forget we’d talked,” Robert sighs, “Tried to forget it myself.”

“Not something you can just ignore.” Aaron settles his palm on Robert’s forearm.

Robert nods, laughing self deprecatingly, “I couldn’t just leave well enough alone, had to find out for myself.”

He leans back, looks up at the sky. “I’m not much of a Sugden.”

Aaron stares at Robert’s profile, his mouth open in disbelief. “You’re amazing,” he argues, “and if your dad can’t see that, well… I do.”

Robert turns towards him finally, knees knocking against Aaron’s, smile quietly fond. “Of course you think that.”

Aaron shakes off the dismissal, voice full of passion as he insists, “No, Robert. You’re worth a thousand of him.”

He can feel his hatred of Jack seeping into his tone, darkening it, “He deserves whatever you force on him.”

Robert stiffens, frowning. “Force? I don’t _force_ anyone.”

Aaron’s eyes widen. He tries to back track, “No! No, of course not.”

A look of panic flashes across Robert’s face and he leans towards Aaron. “I haven’t, Aaron. I swear. I know what the media says about us, but I’ve never made someone do something they don’t want.”

He grabs his hand. “I wouldn’t.”

Aaron stares at the hand wrapped around his, thinks of how much strength Robert’s given him while stroking his thumb over Robert’s knuckle. “I know you wouldn’t.”

He keeps his eyes down, not needing Robert’s pity, voice low, “Do you know why some people can tell when they’re being influenced?”

He doesn’t need to look up to see the way Robert’s body tenses, knows he’s seen the television specials about resisting, people in abusive relationships speaking out about how they finally got free.

There’s a pause while Robert processes what Aaron’s saying. “Who?”

“My dad.” Aaron’s proud that his voice doesn’t break, proud he’s gotten far enough in life that he can talk about it.

He keeps his eyes on Robert’s hands, forces himself to keep talking. “He was terrified anyone would find out about me. Whenever I was with him, he kept me controlled. I went years without using my power.”

Robert flexes his hand, holding tighter onto Aaron’s, knuckles white from the cold, “I don’t know what it’s like for you, but that made me sick. I was always sore and tired, and so _angry_. But it was like I couldn’t feel the anger, like it was in me but I was dreamin’ it.”

Aaron remembers the dullness of those years, feeling like everything he did and felt was wrong, like he was in a fog all the time.

“How’d you get free?” Robert’s voice brings him back to the present, feeling the bench under him and Robert’s hand on his.

Aaron finally looks up at Robert and doesn’t see pity, just sadness. It lets Aaron continue. “When I was ten he had a big job that wouldn’t let him take me, so I got left with my mum for a month. I almost died from bringing down a barn around me.”

He tries to think back to that day, to the blinding headache that had wormed its way into every fold of his brain for the first week, until he fell to his knees and screamed for what felt like hours, throat raw at the end, the old building in ruins around him.

Robert’s nodding. “Your mum took you then?”

Aaron feels the knee-jerk reaction to lie, to nod and agree and let the conversation end. But Robert deserves to know all of it, all the darkness inside him. He shakes his head, “She was between jobs, couldn’t tell the truth about why she wanted me without comin’ clean about her own powers. Court sided with him.”

The quiet intake of Robert’s breath coupled with the way he uses his hands to cup over both of Aaron’s settles something inside Aaron. He’s going to be honest even if it breaks them.

“When I came back he didn’t have anything to build on. He started gettin’ creative, finding things I wanted and combining his orders with that.” He’s trembling now, feeling like the scared little boy hiding from his own hunger and thirst just so Gordon couldn’t grab onto them and twist them into more.

“I was twelve when my power started getting worse. I’d make the house rumble while I slept, nearly derailed a train once when he walked away.” He closes his eyes, remembers the way it felt to burst free, unable to care about the damage he could cause. “It was terrible. Any time he lost concentration I’d slip out.”

Robert’s hands shift around his, intertwining their fingers, urging him on.

“And then it started not working. I could feel him want something, and I’d just ignore it. Small things at first, then bigger ones.”

He swallows, “I started destroying things, and he kept trying.”

Aaron looks up, tries to see if he should tell him everything, and sees Robert shaking in anger, the clench of his jaw giving away his fury. He nods for Aaron to go on.

“One night he told me he was going to turn me in. I weren’t even fourteen. We were in the kitchen, and he was screaming, and the room was full of his power, and it didn’t touch me. I could barely feel what he wanted, it was like he was nothing.”

Aaron can’t watch Robert for this part, needs to get it all out before he sees the disgust he knows is coming. “He grabbed me, pushed with all his force into my skin, _wanted_ me to disappear so badly I could feel myself wishing I didn’t exist.”

He licks his lips, notices they’re salty, and realizes he’s been crying. “I managed to pull away, grabbed a knife...”

He pulls his hands out of Robert’s, bringing them up into his sleeves and wiping his cheek. “I killed him and ran as far as I could,” he sniffs, wiping the other cheek, “And I wish I could say I was sorry, but I’m not.”

He wants to bring his knees up to his chest, curl himself into a ball.

Robert’s silence is painful. Aaron can’t look at him, just stares at his own knees, letting the dry air remove the last of his tears.

Robert stands, and Aaron’s heart breaks, knowing he’s going to walk away now that Robert knows he’s a murderer. He’s still looking down when Robert’s legs appear in front of him, hands outstretched.

Aaron looks up, sees Robert’s stunned look, cautiously uses the offered hands to stand.

Robert wraps him in his arms, pulling him close, and Aaron’s hands stutter for a second before he clutches at the back of Robert’s coat, chin tucked over his shoulder and against the collar, listening to Robert’s voice, a stream of kindness, “You did what you could. You survived. I’m lucky to know you.”

Aaron stands there, buried in the warmth of Robert’s assurances, until he feels like himself again.

He inhales and tilts his head back to look at Robert. “You’re nothing like him.”

Robert melts a little in his arms, forehead resting on Aaron’s until Aaron turns his head, hands coming up to Robert’s neck, and softly kisses his lips. “I trust you.”

The wrecked noise that pulls from Robert’s throat makes Aaron deepen the kiss, licking into Robert’s mouth, trying to say with his body what he can’t aloud.

A passing mother with a pram makes a tutting noise, and they pull apart, blushing.

Aaron glances down at his watch, “We’d better head back. You’ve got a meeting in an hour.”

Robert nods, thumb smoothing over Aaron’s brow. He grabs for Aaron’s hand and they walk back towards the house, only dropping the connection when they come in sight of the first set of cameras.

——

_All eyes are on the United Nations this week, as the Security Council is gearing up for a decision about its recommendation for the treatment of mutants. Head of the council, Jack Sugden, has made passionate calls in the past for stricter regulations on mutants, and has hinted at mandatory testing recommendations for all United Nations countries. Political experts are surmising that the proposals will include labelling of mutants in categories based on their power threat level, and potentially forced imprisonment of any mutants found to be too much of a danger to society. _

——

Aaron’s outside of yet another glass-walled office in the middle of Manhattan trying to ignore Robert inside and actually watch their surroundings, scanning infinite windows for signs of movement. He hates how exposed everything is in New York, how many angles of attack there are.

He wishes he could feel settled; Rebecca’s been caught, BioMutrix is in economic shambles, the rest of the council is on their side. But he can’t stop feeling like something else is coming.

His phone buzzes with a message from Cain. Seeing it on the screen feels like a confirmation of all his fears.

_Call home._

His stomach drops, mind running through a million things that could be wrong. He looks at Robert, happily showing spreadsheets and predictions to some older man in a business suit who’s eyes look so greedy Aaron would be surprised if Robert needed any power at all.

He picks up his phone and dials his mum.

“Aaron,” Cain answers, sounding stressed and surrounded by noise.

Aaron swallows. “You’re in Emmerdale? Everything alright?”

“Just peachy.” There’s the sound of a door closing wherever Cain is, background noise dying down with it. “Rebecca White is dead.”

Aaron leans back against the glass. He wants to bang his head into it instead, annoyed they’ll never know everything she knew. “How?”

Cain’s gruff voice sounds troubled as he says, “She suffered a heart attack during a family visit.”

The rushing in Aaron’s ears makes him dizzy for a moment. He has no idea why Chrissie would want Rebecca dead, never even managed to learn why Rebecca wanted mutants to suffer.

“What good does that do her?” Aaron finds himself asking, neither of them needing to say Chrissie’s name.

“I’ve got no idea.” He can hear Cain rubbing his hand across his face.

Aaron turns to watch Robert, who looks up from where he’s pointing at a graph and winks at him. “I have to tell him.”

“It’s got nothing to do with Sugden,” Cain growls.

Aaron wants desperately to make fracture patterns in the glass under his hand. He tries to keep his voice steady instead. “It’s got everything to do with him! He was some sort of pawn moving between them, and now she’s _killed_ her own sister.”

He hisses out the last words.

“We don’t know that.” Cain’s reply has no force behind it.

Aaron runs a hand through his hair. “Bullshit. No one has a heart attack at twenty seven. We both know what she’s capable of.”

Cain remains silent.

“You know, Robert thinks he started all this. Thinks Rebecca’s plan was all down to him, but I’m not so sure,” Aaron says quietly.

“It worries me when a Sugden sounds reasonable.”

Aaron smiles into the phone, voice fond, “He’s alright.”

Cain groans in dawning realization, “You really can choose ‘em, eh?”

Aaron looks up at Robert again, admiring the way he’s captured the eyes of every person in the room. “He’s not his father any more than I am.”

That seems to halt whatever Cain was about to say. There’s a pause, then a gruff reply, “S’pose.”

Aaron tears his eyes from Robert, mind back on task. “What are we going to do about her?”

Cain clears his throat, “I’ll figure sommat out. Even if she is planning something, the bill still needs to change. So keep watch, and stay safe.”

Aaron’s chest restricts with the thought of Cain taking on Chrissie. “You too.”

There’s a sudden uptick in noise in the room and Cain’s voice gets a teasing edge. “You want me to put yer mum on the phone? She’d probably like to hear about the new man in your life.”

Aaron’s eyes bulge when he hears the squeal of delight across the line. “I hate you,” he growls.

Cain’s laughter can be heard as the phone is handed to Chas, opening with an excited, “Tell me everything!”

“Hi mum…” Aaron groans.

——

_The International Olympic Committee is considering creating a new set of games that will occur after the official games and will feature athletes who test positive for the mutant gene. It is merely in the planning stages as of yet, but supporters of the idea believe the event could happen as soon as 2028. As to why the group has changed their mind about allowing gifted athletes, the head of the I.O.C. stated “we recognize that there are a number of gifted athletes whose biology does not allow them to fairly perform alongside our current participants, and are interested in creating a space in which their achievements can also be celebrated without sidelining those who do not have the same advantages.”_

——

The house is tense. The security team feels betrayed and on edge as Graham combs through their backgrounds again on Jack’s orders. Even Pete’s face is lined with worry.

At dinner, Victoria tries valiantly to keep the conversation going with chatter about her day, but Jack keeps getting up to make calls and Robert is grey with worry, barely able to eat. Aaron stands outside the room, wanting nothing more than to soothe him.

Afterwards, Jack retreats upstairs to pace his office and practice his speech. Aaron feels some tension slip from Robert’s shoulders as his father moves away.

Aaron catches his eye and jerks his head towards the stairs. “C’mon.”

Robert follows, too few stairs between them to be mates.

Aaron checks the hall and pulls Robert into his room. Robert’s on him as quickly as they shut the door, crowding into his space, framing Aaron’s face in his hands.

Aaron lets himself give in for a moment, lets Robert brush their noses together, eyes falling shut.

“Wait.” He comes to his senses, knows he has to tell Robert everything Cain told him. His hands move ineffectually to Robert’s shoulders, lingering there instead of pushing away.

Robert presses a kiss to the corner of Aaron’s lips, humming, “Yeah?”

Aaron clutches at Robert, voice breathy, “I didn’t bring you in here to get off.”

Robert’s hands move down to Aaron’s chest, fingers trailing at the buttons at his collar, skimming across the skin there. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Aaron’s torn. He can feel how much Robert wants him on his skin, the tacky streaks of pheromones dragging goosebumps across his throat. All he wants is Robert’s hands on him, wants to let himself be overwhelmed by them, but he knows he can’t send Robert after Jack without telling him everything.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, making Robert’s hands still.

Aaron uses the moment to clear his head, step back, and breathe in reason. He pulls out the phone, a message from an unknown number on the screen.

_Robert will tell Jack to create mental health clinics for mutants. Let Germany’s example lead the way._

Aaron thinks back to the well-known media images of German clinics. The way the country has invested in therapy and medicines over prisons and police. He doesn’t trust a single atom in Chrissie, but she’s brilliant. It’s the right call.

Robert lets his hands fall to his side, looking suddenly drained. “What’s the news?”

Aaron passes him the phone, lets him read the message, waits until Robert hands it back, nodding.

“If I can get him to…” Robert sighs, “That’s the way I’d want it to go.”

Aaron sends back a simple _sure_, and pockets the phone, watching the way Robert’s shoulders are tensing, his neck strained. “I have ta tell you sommat more.”

Robert nods, looking pale, and gestures to the bed. “Can we sit? I’m dead on my feet.”

Aaron moves with Robert, folds himself up onto the bed, legs crossed, facing him. He can’t tell how Robert will take the news, knows he hasn’t had much chance to look at the headlines of the day, so Aaron will be breaking it to him.

Robert settles with his back against the pillows, hands folded across his stomach, one knee tucked under him, and the other leg outstretched.

Aaron takes a breath. “Rebecca’s dead.”

Robert’s eyes widen.

Aaron barrels through, “And Chrissie killed her.”

Robert looks dumbstruck, eyes searching Aaron’s for a sign he’s joking. Finding nothing, he frowns, then sits up, watching Aaron silently for what feels like an eternity before finally speaking.

“Alright.”

Aaron’s taken aback, and asks, with a frown, “That’s it? You’re alright with that?”

Robert’s face twists, voice steady but passionate, “Of course I’m not alright with it, but what can I do, Aaron? You wanted me to work with you, I will. You trust her? Then so will I.”

Aaron bites his lip, “I don’t know what her end game is, but she’s got just as much to lose as we do if the bill passes.”

Robert looks at his hands. “It doesn’t sound like you believe in her.”

Aaron shifts on the bed, moves closer to Robert’s bent knee, slotting into the space Robert has left open before him. “I don’t,” he says softly, “But I think she’s right.”

Robert nods, face thoughtful, eyes glassy. They sit in silence for a moment.

Finally, Aaron breaks the quiet. “Chrissie hated Rebecca enough to murder her in a prison while in front of cameras and guards.”

Robert looks at him, eyes questioning.

Aaron places a hand on Robert’s calf. “I don’t think you made them hate each other.” He squeezes. “And I doubt you could have stopped it.”

“C’mere,” Robert pleads, voice thick with emotion. He gestures for Aaron to move in, pulls him to his chest and tucks him into his side, shifting over so Aaron fits in the space under his arm with his head on Robert’s shoulder.

He can feel the press of a kiss onto his head, the way Robert’s hands are anchoring Aaron to his side.

He’s never laid beside Robert before, never felt the way Robert’s chest swells with each breath, the way it slowly settles as he calms.

They lie there in silence, Aaron feeling the beat of Robert’s heart through his skin. He knows they can’t fall asleep, can’t get caught, but he lets himself drift for a moment, breathing in the cologne Robert wears and hoping it makes Aaron’s pillow smell like him.

Eventually, Aaron turns more on to his side and draws small patterns across Robert’s chest, drawing an undignified snort of laughter from Robert, who turns onto his side to face Aaron. He shifts down on the mattress so they’re face to face, noses almost touching, sharing air.

Aaron stares into Robert’s eyes. Tries to read what’s there.

“I’ll try tomorrow,” Robert breathes out, voice barely there.

Aaron puts his hand onto Robert’s waist, smoothing the fabric underneath his palm.

Robert’s voice strengthens. “We do this, and then we get answers from the Whites.”

——

_For the first time in history, a member of a European royal family has come forward as a carrier of the mutant gene. Princess Sofia of Sweden gave an emotional interview in British Vogue, saying she knows her children will also be carriers, meaning if they marry another carrier their children would have a high likelihood of being mutants themselves. This revelation means that there have been mutants in the royal line for at least two generations, and is inspiring historians and scientists to comb through the royal histories looking for potential early mutants along her line. Genetic experts say Sofia is an important marker, since the family line is so well documented. It is unclear when the first mutants appeared in humanity, but it seems that the mutation may have been around longer than previously guessed._

——

Aaron can hear Robert pacing in his room when he wakes up. It’s early still, only six, but Robert is planning to speak with Jack before he leaves for his day, hoping that they can still change his mind with three days until the bill is proposed.

There’s anxiety bubbling beneath Aaron’s skin, making his stomach roll. He can only imagine what Robert’s feeling.

Aaron gets up and puts on his work suit, knowing Robert wants him to act the purely professional bodyguard while he speaks to Jack, keeping other members of the team from the room.

He looks at himself in the mirror, white shirt under a black jacket, and straightens his shoulders, embracing the way the outfit helps him feel like someone else. He needs to be an ignorable shadow today, bringing no attention to himself as he supports Robert.

Robert’s still walking around his room, and Aaron can almost picture him running hands through his blond hair, working himself into a lather about what he’ll say.

Aaron puts the earpiece in, careful not to turn it on so no one can overhear him.

He opens his door and turns, knocking on Robert’s. He can hear the man take two long strides to it, then settle for a moment before opening it. The way his eyes brighten with relief when he sees it’s Aaron at his door makes Aaron’s heart leap in his chest.

Robert stands aside, gesturing Aaron into the room. “I’m just getting ready.”

Aaron walks in, brushing his shoulder against Robert as he does. “Alright.” He looks around as Robert closes the door behind him, decides to just stand rather than sink into the comfort of the bed.

He turns to Robert. “How’re you doin?”

Robert’s buttoning his shirt shakily, and Aaron sees he’s put on one of his new suits. He tries for a breezy response, even as his hands give away his nerves, “You know me, I’m fine.”

Aaron tilts his head slightly, considering Robert, trying to guess what will help him most, and decides to move closer. He puts a hand on Robert’s upper arm, purring against him, “You’ll be brilliant.”

Robert’s hands still on the last button, breathing easier while in contact with Aaron. “I’m going to tell him who I am. I can’t do this hidden from him.”

Aaron can’t hide the surprise from his face. “Do ya think it’ll help?”

Robert hangs his head. “He’s my father. It might be enough to get him to start listening.”

Aaron squeezes his arm, remaining silent.

They stand, Aaron’s arm the bridge between them, in the cool morning darkness of Robert’s room. Aaron savors this moment of quiet they have before they make moves to change the world.

Robert crosses his arm over his body and puts his hand on Aaron’s before moving away, shrugging on his jacket and tying his tie while Aaron watches.

He looks up when fully polished, back rod straight, chin up, “Well, Dingle, are you ready to do this?”

Aaron nods silently, settling into a more military stance, “Always, Sugden.”

They move in tandem, Aaron opening Robert’s door for him, and walk up the stairs to Jack’s office. He’s working already, unsurprising as he has barely been sleeping in the past week, so full of paranoia and hatred.

Jack doesn’t even look up when Robert knocks, Aaron slipping into the room behind him and standing at the closed door, ready to pull Robert out if he has to.

Robert sits in the chair opposite his father, waiting until Jack finally speaks, head still down. “What do you want, Robert? I’ve got a full day.”

Robert shrinks in his chair, looking younger than his years, a scolded child. He reaches for the photograph on Jack’s desk. Aaron sees it’s a family photograph of the four of them at a beach.

Jack stops writing to finally look over his glasses, sounding put out when he says, “Put it back.”

Robert doesn’t.

Aaron sees him trace a finger over his mother’s face. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “She wouldn’t want this.”

Jack sighs, puts his pen down. His voice turns cold. “I don’t want to hear it, Robert.”

Robert looks up finally, leans forward to tell him, “She cared for mutants.”

Jack’s face turns nasty, a sneer at the mention of the word. “Well, if you hadn’t needed her out of the house, perhaps she could tell me that herself, but as it is? I’m getting justice for her.”

Robert places the photograph back, still facing him. Aaron can tell he needs the assurance of Sarah’s love while Robert does this. His voice is wrecked already, “You can’t blame me more than I blame myself. I _know_ I’m why she’s gone.”

Jack’s face doesn’t soften at his son’s pain, he just picks the pen back up, dismissive, “I don’t have time for your dramatics, Robert.”

Aaron can see Robert’s shoulders clench. “If you pass that bill you’re dooming me to a life as a second class citizen.”

Jack’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing then flicking to Aaron, his voice full of fire, “Be careful what you say right now. Not everything can be taken back.”

Robert’s coiled tight, each word clipped, room filling with pheromones. “I am, and if you’ve ever loved me you won’t do this to me.”

Aaron can feel him begging to be listened to, the pull strong.

Jack feels it too, focusing on Robert and leaning forward, “We can send you to a non-testing country, set you up with a business there, fake your records.”

Robert’s grip on the armrest tightens, Aaron can feel him losing focus momentarily. “No! You can’t just send me away, I’m not something you can sweep under the rug and ignore.”

Aaron can see the war within Jack, and swallows nervously when he sees the hate win, his voice full of fury, “They’ve turned you against me, haven’t they? They want you to bring me down, using my own blood against me.”

Robert stands, the passion in his voice backed by a flood of pheromones in the room. “You have the power to help us, to do _good_, all I’m asking is for you to try.”

Jack mirrors the movement, face full of disdain. “You’re _asking_? I don’t think so.” His words cut into Robert, “You were always such a willful child, and we gave you everything you ever wanted. Never questioned it, just wanted you to be happy.”

Jack stalks towards him, “It wasn’t until after your mother was murdered that I started wondering why all your ideas sounded so good, why you could worm your way out of anything.”

Robert freezes, mouth open in shock. Jack stops in front of him, crimson with anger. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve listened to you and let you slide for all these years as long as you kept in line. Looked good for the family image, the troubled but charming son without a mother to look after him.”

Robert’s gone white, shaking with fear. Jack pokes his finger into his chest, face close to his son’s. “You need me to want to help you, don’t you? You need me to _feel_ something for you for it to work?”

He spits the words out, “You’re more mutt than human, so all I _want_ is for you to disappear quietly. Take your guard dog,” he gestures to Aaron, “And vanish.”

Robert surges forward, large hand at his father’s throat, pushing him until his back hits a filing cabinet, spitting with anger, “I could make you do anything I want.”

Jack’s eyes widen in fear and he opens his mouth.

“Shut up.” Robert hisses, Jack’s jaw instantly clicking shut, “You think I’m strong at a distance? Imagine what I’m like concentrated.”

Aaron’s frozen, stomach turning as he watches Robert, torn between pulling him back and letting him continue. But he knows Robert will never forgive himself if he oversteps like this, won’t be able to look at himself in the mirror without hating his power.

He finally finds his voice, “Robert.”

Robert turns his head, looking over his shoulder, jaw tight and hand still at his father’s throat.

“It’s not worth it,” Aaron says, voice like gravel. “Let him go.”

Robert swallows, resolve wavering, voice uncertain, “It’s the only way.”

Aaron walks to him, puts a hand on his arm, hopes his voice sounds certain. “We’ll find another one.”

Robert looks at Aaron’s hand, deflating, but doesn’t release Jack’s throat, voice desperate, “He can’t remember this.”

Aaron’s eyes flick to Jack’s face, sees his eyes already clouding over in confusion, “Well, you’ve taken care of that.” Robert looks surprised, grip finally loosening.

He begins pulling Robert back, keeps his voice calm as he promises, “We’ll look for another angle.” He steps up to Jack, guides him back to his chair, places a pen in his hand, and steps to the other side of the desk.

Jack shifts and looks up, confused, “Dingle?” He glances over at Robert, sighing in exasperation, “Oh, Robert, what do you want? I’ve got a full day.”

Robert swallows, eyes flicking to Aaron. “It’s nothing.”

Jack’s already back to his paper, marking it up, as he hums dismissively, waving them out.

——

_A mutant family in the Samoan island of Upolu has given doctors a possible new approach for attacking cancer without radiation. A doctor who is a member of the large extended family, which contains around one hundred members in total, realized none of them has ever had cancer, nor could anyone remember deceased family members suffering from the disease. The family’s elders for the past five generations have lived well into their nineties, and it appears their mutation has allowed their white blood cells to identify abnormal cell growth quicker than in most humans, their cells pre-engineered to fight cancer cells. There’s hope that these cells’ effectiveness can be replicated in order to more efficiently attack cancerous growths in non-mutants. _

——

Making it back down the stairs to his room seems to cut Robert’s strings, and he slumps exhaustedly against Aaron, face in the crook of Aaron’s neck. Aaron pulls him inside, closing the door quickly.

“He knew, Aaron. He _knows_ and he’s still writing this bill.” Robert’s voice is broken against Aaron’s collar, and it’s all he can do to support the man’s weight with one arm.

He turns a bit, bringing both arms around Robert, pressing his temple against the other man’s hair. There’s nothing that can make this hurt less, so he just whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

Robert sniffs, hands on Aaron’s sides underneath the jacket, “I knew I could never get him to listen. All he cares about is his image.”

There’s a pang in Aaron’s chest. “We just took the wrong approach, we’ll find another way.”

He can feel Robert shake his head, “He doesn’t give a toss about me, Aaron. And he knows what I can do. There’s nothing there for me to work with.”

Robert sighs, pulling back, looking sadly into Aaron’s eyes. “You should’ve let me force him.”

Aaron shakes his head emphatically, “I’m not going to let ya become everything he hates.”

Robert looks down. “At least I’d be doing something good for once.”

Aaron can’t let that stand, so he grabs Robert, hands laced at the back of his neck, making sure he’s looking at Aaron. “You don’t do good by losing who you are. You’re not a monster. You’re human.”

Robert’s eyes are glassy and uncertain, voice wavering. “I can’t do it, Aaron. I can’t change him.”

Deep down inside him, Aaron knows Robert’s right. Knows the last option they had is gone, that the only thing ahead of him is giving up his humanity to keep Robert’s.

He nods shakily, tries to smile. “Well, we keep working. Maybe something will happen. There’s other people working with us. We’ll find a way to stop the bill.”

“And if we can’t? What then? What’ll happen to us?” Robert’s looking for assurances, for plans, but Aaron’s heart is racing and he can’t think of anything but the future he’s losing.

He pulls away, can’t look into Robert’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

Robert’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades. “The resistance will have a back up plan, we just need to wait to see what it is.”

He must feel Aaron tense under his hand, because there’s a pause, before Robert pulls his hand back and asks, voice low, “You already know what it is, don’t you?”

Aaron hunches his shoulders and nods, keeping his back to Robert.

He can hear Robert shift. “Is it bad?”

Aaron closes his eyes. He nods again.

Robert moves closer but doesn’t touch him. “Are they going to have someone kill him?”

Aaron huffs out a small laugh of desperation.

Robert puts a hand on Aaron’s arm, voice calming, “I’d understand if they want you to set it up, but you don’t have to go through with it.”

Aaron turns, can feel the tears pricking at his eyes, voice breaking, “Robert, please, don’t, alright?”

Robert’s face goes from worried to heartbroken. “It’s you, isn’t it? They’re asking you to kill him?”

Aaron closes his eyes, feels the tears spill out the corners. “I wish it were just that.”

Robert’s face is etched with concern. “What has she told you to do?”

Aaron swallows, tears still falling. “I’m meant to bring down the U.N. I don’t even know if I’m strong enough, but she says if a war is coming we have to strike first.”

Robert’s mouth falls open. “You can’t!”

He moves in, making Aaron step back blindly, unable to handle his comfort.

“I don’t want to do it, I was planning on telling Chrissie to stuff it, but now…” Aaron raises his hands in loss, begs him to understand, “They can’t pass this law.”

Robert steps in, puts his hand on Aaron’s cheek, “You’re not a killer.”

Aaron looks up, “I am, though. I’ve never done it with power, but I am.”

“But you–” Robert’s voice is raw with emotion. “You’re not a weapon, Aaron. She can’t make you into one.”

Aaron feels like his chest has been cracked open. “What do you want me to do, Robert? My family can’t live in the world your father’s building. _You_ can’t live in it either. I don’t see any other options.”

Robert pushes their foreheads together, hands on either side of Aaron’s face. “Losing you isn’t an option. We’ll find another way. We still have time.”

And for the moment Aaron closes off the fear and lets himself believe him.

——

_The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom is facing backlash for anti-mutant statements she made at a dinner last month. Footage of Nicola King showed her openly discussing the idea of closing U.K. borders to all mutant entries, and removing recent immigrants who test positive for the gene. There has not been any public apology from the Prime Minister, nor is there expected to be one, as much of her campaign relied upon the support of groups such as CleanUK. Recent polls of people under thirty-five in the country have her popularity level at record lows, but she is still doing well amongst the more conservative base she relies upon for her potential re-election next year._

——

It’s hours later when Aaron and Robert are sitting on Robert’s bed, laptops between them, trying to learn how to stop bills in U.N. sub committees. They’ve found who is on the Security Council, and just by looking at names and voting records, it’s clear that unless Jack changes his mind there’s enough anti-mutant sentiment from the other countries to overwhelm the voices of reason.

Aaron’s aching from hunching over the screen, the hollow pit inside him growing as they keep coming up short.

“Fuck,” Robert sighs, slamming his laptop shut.

Aaron nods in agreement, rubbing at his sore neck, eyes barely able to focus.

Robert loops his grip around Aaron’s wrist, urging him over. “Even if we can’t find anything, you can’t do it.”

Aaron frowns, pulling away from Robert’s fingers, “I can’t just tell her I won’t. It won’t change anything. She’ll send in someone else.”

Robert’s eyes are soft and sad, voice dark, “But it wouldn’t be _you_.”

Aaron rubs a hand on his face in frustration, unwilling to continue talking in circles. “I’ll call Cain and see if he’s got anywhere.”

Robert nods encouragingly, shifting on the bed so he’s closer to Aaron, his warmth soothing. Aaron scrolls through his contacts and taps on Cain’s name.

The phone rings twice and Aaron puts it on speaker phone before a woman answers, “Dingle. I was wondering when you’d call.”

Aaron’s stomach drops as he recognizes the voice, immediately on the offensive, barely registering Robert’s hand digging into his arm. “Chrissie.”

He can hear the smile in her voice. “Got it in one. I assume Robert’s there with you?”

Aaron’s eyes flick to Robert’s, who nods, then clears his throat. “I’m here.”

“I hear I’ve got you to thank for my baby sister growing a backbone.” Her voice is filled with more malice than before.

Robert blanches, but keeps his voice calm and breezy, “And I hear you’re the reason I don’t have to keep worrying about her.”

Aaron interrupts whatever Chrissie is about to reply with, “Where’s Cain?”

Chrissie’s musical and mirthless laughter sends shivers down his spine. “Oh, your uncle is fine. He’s all tied up at the moment, but as long as we are still on task he’ll get through everything just fine.”

Robert’s hand is the only thing that keeps Aaron grounded in place, the point of contact a constant as the room spins. He clears his throat, trying to stay focused on the warmth on his skin, “What are you saying?”

“You’ve got two options: put the bill I want into play, or continue with the back up plan we already discussed.” Her voice is harder now, none of the polite socialite left in it.

Robert swallows, trying to placate her. “We’re working on it.”

“I already know about _your_ failures, Robert,” she mocks, his name like an insult on her tongue. “Force him or end him. I’d be happy with either option, really.”

Aaron catches Robert’s eye. “And if we don’t?”

“Well, then, I suppose I won’t have _any_ Dingles working for me at the end of the week. Can’t say the severance package is anything to be excited about.” She’s so cold and collected, Aaron’s clammy with fear for his uncle.

He moves to open his mouth, but she cuts him off, “And boys? I wouldn’t recommend trying anything tricky. I caught Tate and he actually had a brain.”

She hangs up, and he’s left looking at his home screen of a blurry picture of Emmerdale. Aaron’s heart is hammering in his chest, tremors pushing at his fingertips. He drops the phone onto the mattress, continues to stare at it. “She’ll kill him and she won’t even feel it.”

“She’s watching us.” Robert’s voice comes through the haze of fear. “She already knew about this morning.”

Aaron looks at him, nodding, realizing he’s unsuprised at the lengths Chrissie has gone to. “There’s cameras all over the house. She could be watching them, or she could have someone on the staff.”

Robert’s jaw works, voice full of hate, “She knew she would have you right where she needed no matter what.”

Aaron can’t help the wave of hopelessness that overcomes him. “He saved me, I can’t be the reason he dies.” He turns to look at Robert. “And before you even ask: the answer is still no.”

Robert sighs, shakes his head. “And I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself in some misguided guilt trip.”

It makes Aaron smile a little, the conviction in his voice. “Well, I’m not seeing many other paths.”

Robert moves his hand to Aaron’s face, thumb ghosting across his cheekbone. He looks pensive, eyes steely. “The way I see it, we need someone on our side.”

Aaron nods, leaning his head into Robert’s palm, letting the calm that comes from his touch center him.

Robert’s face changes and Aaron knows he’s made a decision. “I’ve got an idea.”


	4. Epicenter

_ _

_After the passing last month of the Supreme Court justice Cassity and her subsequent replacement by the far more liberal Morton, the court is currently liberal leaning with a five to four majority. Mutant rights activists are trying to bring two new cases in front of the court_ _—_ _ one that could reverse earlier rulings about the rights of mutants in the workplace, and another that could expand a requirement of affordable healthcare coverage to all mutants. This potential change of sentiment in the Supreme Court could change the lives of American mutants, but the question remains if the justices will be willing to go against the legal precedents set by the court for the past decades._

——

Climbing into the car as if it’s any other day is nerve-wracking for them both, hands itching to edge towards each other across the seat, trying to avoid the eyes of the driver. Aaron’s still got no clue where they’re headed. Robert had gone thoughtful and quiet, and Aaron let him process whatever he was about to do on his own.

The driver looks up at the two of them. “Where to?”

“Gramercy Tavern,” Robert says, then swallows nervously, looking at Aaron.

“Vic?” Aaron can’t keep the incredulity from his voice.

Robert’s mouth twists. “He loves her. More than he’s ever loved me. That’s for sure.”

Aaron doesn’t stop himself from putting his hand next to Robert’s then, pinky fingers overlapping.

It’s not far to the restaurant, so they sit in anticipatory silence, hands side by side. Aaron breathes in the moment of normalcy, storing it in his memories, hoping it’s not the last he’ll have.

When they arrive, Robert leans forward to the driver. “We’re gonna have a drink, come back in thirty?”

“Right, sir.” She locks eyes with Aaron, silently checking that the plan meets his standards. He nods once, and climbs out, Robert exiting behind him.

Robert takes a deep breath, exhale visible in the cool air. “She doesn’t know.”

Aaron watches his face, “Bout you?”

Robert shrugs. “Any of it, I suppose. Never brought any lads home. Never wanted to before.”

He’s staring at his shoes, hands in his pockets, uncertain.

Aaron feels the thrill of his heart, can’t stop the shy smile that takes over when he asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Robert answers, meets Aaron’s gaze, mouth curving up on one side.

Aaron nods, thinks about how his mum had taken walking in on him kissing some local boy behind the pub at seventeen, fingers barely tucked under his waistband, all desperate angles and lanky limbs. Remembers the tray of glassware shattering as she gasped.

“Well, maybe don’t lead with us.”

Robert looks affronted. “Aaron, without us I wouldn’t be doing any of this. I’d’ve done just what my father said and found a non-testing country to do business from.”

His voice is low but clear, the chaos of Manhattan leaving them untouched. “You make me try to be better.”

Aaron wants to pull him in, wants to grasp onto his jacket and never let go, burying himself into the spaces Robert carves out for him. Instead he swallows, searches for the words he wants. “You’re already enough.”

Robert’s face softens, eyes fond. It makes Aaron wish he could come up with something more to say, to show him his true worth, but he’s never been good at this, and they have more pressing matters to attend to. So he gestures at the door.

Robert sighs, straightens, and heads inside to the dark quiet of a restaurant on the verge of opening for lunch.

The hostess smiles at them. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Table for two?”

Robert shakes his head. “I’m Robert Sugden, Vic’s brother? I was wondering if she’s free?”

The woman looks him up and down, “I’ll check.”

She heads back to the kitchen, and returns with Victoria, dressed in her chef’s whites and looking pleased to see her brother.

“Robert!” She pulls off her hat, wiping her hands on her apron. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She must see something on Robert’s face, because she immediately puts her hands up. “You know what? I was just wrapping up. I’m not on ‘til dinner rush, and I’d kill for a coffee.”

Robert’s shoulders relax minutely as he nods, voice sounding strained, “My treat.”

Victoria looks at him thoughtfully, eyes assessing, then flicking over to Aaron. He tries to look blank, unobtrusive.

She nods. “I’ll just grab my coat, yeah?”

They step aside, wait for her return as diners arrive and begin to fill up the tables. Aaron spends the moment scanning the room, finding exits and lines of sight. He sees a couple tucked into a corner, quietly smiling at each other over menus while their ankles bump. Flashes back to him and Robert in the pub before he’d told him everything. To the easy flirting and the way Robert’s calf felt pressed up against his shin.

If they make it through this, he’s going to take Robert on a proper date.

Victoria returns, bundled up, and says from behind her scarf, “There’s a quiet cafe a block away. You can tell me what’s got you all tied up in knots.”

Robert nods, and Aaron pushes the door open for the two of them, waiting for Victoria to lead the way.

They choose a quiet corner table, Aaron sitting by Robert with his back to the wall, watching the wide windows and door for signs of danger. Wonders if Chrissie can see them even here.

“Well? Out with it,” Vic says after their drinks have arrived, impatient.

Aaron snaps his attention back to the table, watches Robert rub his hands over his thighs. Remains silent because it’s Robert’s story to tell.

“I don’t know where to start.” Robert’s voice is laced with uncertainty.

“Start what?” Victoria’s frown grows, eyes scanning Robert’s face, “You’re scarin’ me.”

Robert sighs, breath catching in his throat, “I−”

He takes a nervous sip of his drink before his confession rushes out of him in a single exhale, “I’m a mutant.”

There’s a long silence where Aaron studies Vic, watches emotions flow across her face: confusion, surprise, disbelief, and finally affection. He feels something in his chest release, but can tell Robert’s avoiding looking up.

He’s fiddling with the sugar packet in front of him instead.

Victoria frowns, determined, and reaches across the table to Robert’s hand. Hers is far smaller than his, but she rests it across his fingers. “I’m here,” she tells him, “You told me, and I’m still here.”

Robert’s hand turns in hers, holding on, and he finally looks up, the disbelief in his profile making Aaron ache. “Yeah?”

She nods, squeezing her grip. “You’re my brother. I love ya. A gene isn’t gonna change that.”

She turns to look at Aaron. “You knew?”

Aaron nods, looking for Robert’s reaction as he does, wanting to reach out and put his hand on Robert’s thigh, but he keeps himself in check.

Robert looks at him, licks his lips, and turns back to Vic.

“He knows. Aaron and me, we’re−” he inhales, settling himself as he reaches out, laces their fingers together, and stares at their hands.

Vic’s eyes soften, freckles shifting across her cheeks as she smiles. “I’m happy for ya.”

Robert’s hand goes still. “You’re not surprised?”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Robert, we went to Paris together. Just because we didn’t share a room doesn’t mean your visitors were invisible.”

“Also, there was that time at New Years where I walked in on ya ‘looking for Rick’s coat’ with him,” she teases, and Robert’s eyes go wide with shock.

Her voice bubbles with joy, “I’m just glad you’ve finally got someone worth telling me for.”

“He is.” Robert looks at Aaron, green eyes intense, and Aaron squeezes his hand, blushing.

The noise of affection that pulls from Victoria makes Aaron feel like he’s on display, but he grounds himself by stroking his thumb across Robert’s.

They sit there for a second, Victoria considering Aaron and Aaron refusing to look away before she turns back to Robert, voice less sure than before. “Does da’ know?”

Robert blanches. “Yeah.”

She reaches over and pats his unoccupied hand. “He’ll get used to it. Give him time.”

Robert pulls back, shaking his head. “He’s had years, Vic. He’s known since we were kids, about all of it.”

She starts at that, leaning back. “What?”

“Yeah, made it clear when I was fifteen he didn’t approve, and said as much again this morning.” The bitter bile in Robert’s voice makes Aaron squeeze tighter, remind Robert that he’s there.

“He knows and he’s still writing that bill?” There’s so much hurt and disbelief in Victoria’s eyes, and Aaron feels for her losing a hero.

Robert nods, unable to speak.

“That’s why we need ya,” Aaron finds himself speaking, leaning into Robert’s space.

“He won’t listen to Robert. Too much…” he gestures vaguely, “bad air.”

She looks sad. “You’ve been like that for years. Chalk and cheese the two of yas.”

Aaron can feel Robert’s grip tighten in anger, his voice raising, “He–”

Aaron pours calming rhythm into his palm, radiates it through the delicate bones of Robert’s hand.

Robert inhales, eyes closing for a moment, teeth grinding and voice full of pain, “He hates everything I am Vic. And my–” he pauses, looks at Aaron, squeezes his hand lightly, “Our only chance to change this is you.”

Her lip shakes, eyes welling up, “Oh Robert. He’s wrong, you know that, yeah?” She looks at Aaron as well, “Of course I’ll try.”

Robert sags in relief, and she sniffs and wipes a tear off her cheek, hand shaking. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Didn’t know what to think.” Robert’s voice is quiet. “But I hoped.”

She smiles with one side of her mouth, just like Robert does when he’s unsure. “Well, I’m sorry if you ever felt like you couldn’t tell me. Any of it. _All_ of it.”

She stands, opens her arms for a hug, and Robert rises, skirting around the table to envelop her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin.

“I love you.” She says into his shoulder. She pulls back, looking up. “And mum would be dead proud of ya.”

Robert’s face crumples at that, pulling her back in and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

They stand like that for a few beats before Vic sniffs, pulls back, and returns to her seat. Robert slides back in next to Aaron, pushing the length of his thigh against Aaron’s leg. His eyes are red rimmed but he looks far less burdened, a lightness in his shoulders.

She sniffs and looks between them, voice brighter, “Well, go on then? How’d all this happen?” She gestures, “Bodyguard and business man? Sounds dead romantic!”

“Vic,” Robert groans, the picture of a bothered big brother.

——

_Mutant mental health retreats have become a big business in Costa Rica, where the quiet vistas of the rainforest are being tapped as luxury accommodations for mutants who want to learn how to control their powers through meditation and group therapy. Many of the retreats come with protected cabins, hiking trails, and yoga courses; all meant as a way for the genetically gifted to get in touch with the spikes in their biology that can cause them to use their powers without warning. Misty Allbright is one of the entrepreneurs who opened a yoga studio nestled in the small town of Paraiso, partnering with a local organic farm to encourage mutants to work with their hands as a natural way to release stored up energy. “It’s all about finding their center and concentrating on what makes them feel themselves,” she says. It seems to be working: none of these sites have had any mutant power outbreaks, and the anonymous reviews are glowing. Could this be the future of mutant tourism?_

——

Victoria is working the dinner rush, so they have the day to sit and stew in their worries. Aaron knows he’ll go mad waiting for time to pass, so once they’ve returned and Robert’s on his computer checking accounts, he slips back into his room and pulls on running clothes.

He craves the simplicity of movement, the yearn for oxygen in his tissues. Knowing how his feet will hit the ground, shock absorbing into his heels, reverberating up his legs. He needs it, needs to feel the bite and burn of cold air curling into his lungs, the rush of pain pointedly real.

It’s only when he’s well into his fifth kilometer that the rush of endorphins and ache in his bones settle down and he can hear his worries again, swirling around him.

The only options when he gets stuck in a spiral like this is to run it away until his brain goes silent for lack of energy or to push his force into the earth, the distant rumble beneath him a storage space for his anxieties. But he can’t do either safely. He needs to be at his best in two days for the U.N. summit, and Manhattan is still too complex yet empty and echoing beneath for him to feel safe syphoning.

He rounds a corner and his mind fills with Robert. Broad hands calming him, helping him know what to do.

It’s selfish, what he wants. Needing Robert to bring him off the edge, but there’s a pit growing within him that he needs to keep his attention off, and if he’s only got two days left with Robert, then he’s willing to be greedy.

He occupies himself with idle daydreams of a life beyond this one, tries to silence the way the images erode his inner strength. He supposes he doesn’t need vast reserves if his world ends.

The buildings around him grow more familiar until he’s just outside the house. He lopes up the front steps, opening the door and feeling the stifling heat wrap around him. His skin is dry from his run, the chill and wind blowing away any sweat, but it’s hot to the touch, and the radiators warming the front hall are overwhelming.

Climbing the stairs makes his thighs respond pleasantly, the quiet ache and pull of well-used muscles making him feel accomplished. He pauses outside Robert’s door, but moves on quickly in favor of showering.

It’s after he’s toweled off, changed into comfortable black jeans and a soft slouching jumper, that he finally allows himself to knock softly on Robert’s door and slip inside.

Robert’s sprawled out on his bed, still on his laptop, but based on the sound of pundits from the speakers, he’s moved from work to watching the news.

Aaron walks to the bed, “Budge over.”

Robert smirks and shifts, leaving an Aaron-sized space next to him. Aaron climbs on, skin still buzzing from his run, heart beating wildly with proximity to Robert. He leans in, presses a kiss to Robert’s mouth and smiles when Robert responds lazily, as if they have all the time in the world.

He pulls back, and can feel the way his eyes are crinkling at the side, and curls himself around Robert’s side silently, refusing to disturb the quiet of the room.

Robert lets Aaron tuck himself into his side, and switches over to Netflix, scrolling past films until he arrives at _The Fast and the Furious_. He hums a wordless question at Aaron, who nods against his shoulder.

A hand comes to rest on Aaron’s hip, pulling him in and softly brushing fingertips over the sliver of exposed skin at his side. The touch seeps away Aaron’s worry almost instantly, and he’s not sure if it’s Robert’s power or some placebo caused by proximity, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He rumbles along with the cars lazily, a thrill going through him as it makes Robert’s breath catch each time, light grazes of nails against his skin the only response.

He’s seen the movie often enough that he doesn’t need to watch carefully, and lets his eyes close listening to Robert’s calming heartbeat and the occasional huff of a laugh echoing through the ribcage beneath his ear.

With his eyes closed he can let himself think about how the intoxicating way Robert makes him feel. He’s been running for years, hiding in corners from police and searchers, but falling for Robert feels like a completely different rush of adrenaline. One that takes his breath away without leaving him lost and shaken.

He’s not sure how to function without the ever present looming fear of being found out, but for the moment he just curls his hand onto Robert’s stomach and rolls his eyes at lime green race cars.

He doesn’t know when he begins to drift off, but as he does he feels the way Robert presses his cheek to his hair, holding him close.

——

_Marvel Comics has introduced a new series of superheroes inspired by a number of real world genetic advantages. They have sourced five new characters inspired by the mutant abilities of fans from an online submission series in partnership with YouTube. Fans posted videos of their skillsets to the site, and were then voted on by other members of the community. The resulting group has not been named yet, but theirfirst series of books will be available at the start of next year. _

——

Robert’s not handling Vic’s meeting with Jack well. He’s pacing his room frantically, sleeves pushed up past his elbows and hair mussed from his hands.

Aaron is sitting with his legs crossed on the bed, staring at his phone. Chrissie had checked in earlier that morning and let him speak to Cain. He’d sounded tired but fine, no strain or fear in his voice, just resentment and hurt pride.

Aaron assumes he’s pissy he got bested. Super strength tends to make people feel untouchable, and Cain wasn’t taking enough precautions. Underestimating someone as powerful and connected as Chrissie is a fool’s errand.

Hearing from his family has tamed the beast of worry creeping around inside him, but it’s also made him come to terms with the fact that if this plan fails, then he’ll have to accompany Jack to the U.N. and follow through with Chrissie’s instructions tomorrow.

He looks up and watches Robert nervously fidgeting, neatening stacks of items on the desk and opening and closing drawers.

He doesn’t know what they are, or where they stand, but if he’s still alive in two days he’s going to ask.

No need to put labels on things when they have expiration dates.

They both hear the quiet knock on Robert’s door, and Robert freezes, looking stricken. Aaron huffs in annoyance, calling out, “Come in.”

Victoria steps inside and it’s immediately clear the conversation has not gone their way. Her eyeliner is smudged, eyes red and chin wobbling. She rushes straight for Robert, wrapping her arms around him and letting out a sob.

Aaron can’t hear Robert’s soothing words to her over the sound of his world crashing down around his ears.

He snaps back into the present when Vic sits at the foot of the bed, Robert pulling his chair over to listen to her.

“God, Rob. I’m so sorry I ever sided with him.” She’s sniffling and pushing tears away, pulling her knees in towards her body.

Robert reaches out and puts his hand on her arm, soothing. “You didn’t know.”

She laughs, sounding wrecked. “I told him, you know? I told him that if you’re a mutant then I’m a carrier of the gene, that mum was too. Didn’t even mention he must be one too.”

She sniffs again and Aaron reaches for a tissue from the nightstand and hands it to her.

“Ta.” She wipes her eyes and blows her nose. “Told him that it was wrong, that I _knew_ it was, and that I was just sorry I’d not said anything before.”

She looks at Robert and her face crumples, voice breaking over a sob. “He said that I should just keep my mouth shut, that as long as I find the ‘right sort’ of man I’d be alright.”

She balls the tissue up in her hand, twisting it as she continues, “I told him I didn’t want to choose my life based on that, and that you didn’t have any choice either. That he could say goodbye to both his kids if he continued like this.” Her voice is wrecked and cracked, “He started screaming. I’ve never seen him like that. He threw me out of his office. Said he’d rather have the world safe than children who protect mutts.”

She turns to Robert, sobbing over her words, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help ya.”

“God, Vic. Don’t be sorry. He was never going to change.” Robert gets up on the bed, pulling her into his side, voice quiet as he talks against her hair. “He’s right you know, you could have a normal life. I wouldn’t begrudge you that.”

She shoves him in the side. “Never. We’re the Sugden siblings. You’re not getting rid of me just cos you’ve got some fancy power.”

Robert squeezes her shoulder, voice fond. “It means a lot that you’d try for me.”

“I didn’t just do it for you. He’s _wrong_,” she stresses, looking up at Aaron. “I’m just sorry I never spoke up before.”

Aaron bites his lip, nodding. It warms him, talking to someone without powers and having them look at him like he’s worth something. He’d forgotten how it feels to be in a mixed room where he feels safe and seen.

She sniffs again, wiping the last of her tears away and pulling back from Robert, back straight. “What do we do now?”

Robert looks up and meets Aaron’s eye, looking determined, “_We’ll_ work on it. You’ve done what you can. If this all goes south you’ll need an exit plan. Pack a bag, call some friends back home. You’ll still be able to cross borders without us.”

He never looks away from Aaron, jaw steely as he speaks. “Aaron and I, well, we’ll manage.” His voice goes falsely relaxed, “There’s a whole mutant underground network, we’ve got options.”

Victoria doesn’t seem to hear the strain, and Aaron’s eyes flick to where Robert’s hand is on her uncovered arm, feels for pheromones and can just barely sense them leaking out of Robert’s hand spread across her upper arm.

He nods along with Robert’s story, knowing Robert needs his sister to believe. “You don’t need to worry about us, Vic.” He can feel his smile is diluted, but she doesn’t know him like Robert does, and all he needs to do is help.

She smiles, looking more assured and nodding along. “I trust the two of ya. You’ll make it work.”

Aaron swallows around the lie, feeling it scratch down his throat and ache in his chest. Watches the cracks forming at Robert’s edges.

Robert helps her to the door, voice still soothing, “Don’t worry about dad. He’ll want to keep everything quiet till after the bill, won’t make you leave yet. You’ve got time.”

He walks to his desk, picking up his wallet, and pulls out a business card. “Here’s my banker’s information. I’ll let him know to expect a call from you so the two of you can make some plans with our money from mum.”

Victoria’s nodding along with his assurances. Robert ushers her out the door, closing it behind him and slumping back against it. He stares across the room at Aaron.

There’s a silence that hangs in the air like spider webs, criss-crossing the space between them.

Robert clears his throat, “Mum’s insurance paid out to both of us. I’ve never touched my half, so she’ll be alright.”

Aaron nods. His throat has closed up with fear.

Robert pushes off the door, moves towards the bed. He climbs up and crawls to Aaron, enveloping him in a hug.

Aaron wishes it didn’t feel so much like goodbye, but he allows himself to pull him closer, breathe in his scent and sink them back into the pillows.

——

_Scientists up and down the East Coast of the United States have seen increased seismic activity this year, and warn that the usually quiet area is experiencing new strains. There have been a number of small quakes up and down the coast, none causing much damage, but experts warn that the small events may cause a later quake with far more disastrous consequences. One of the earlier tremors was blamed on a mutant in Lewes, Delaware, but that was quickly debunked by scientists from the surrounding area. Lead Geologist Dr. Terra stated “The shifting plates and a number of weak points in the crust along the coast can cause seismic activity in unsuspecting locations, and this seems to be caused by that.” As the small shocks continue to plague cities all over the area, more governors are working to enact clearer evacuation plans in case of emergencies. _

——

The room has slowly darkened while Robert distracting himself with making plans for Vic. He has called his financial planner, put a few things in her name, and made all his accounts inaccessible to his father. He sells off some stocks and investments, liquidizing a number of his assets and making them available at a moment’s notice to her.

Aaron learns Robert owns some property in Manchester, a three story building that’s apartments over a business space.

“I was planning on converting it into a restaurant for Vic if she ever wanted it.” Robert explains as he looks at photos of it on his laptop, considering how he’ll deal with it.

Aaron kisses his shoulder in response, and then retreats back to the side of the bed he wishes he could think of as his.

He considers the two small suitcases he packed, everything he’s got in the world stuffed into them. He’s never had a proper place of his own, always moving between places before anyone could focus on him. He supposes there may be some odds and ends in a closet in his mum’s pub, but he doubts there’s enough to have to make plans for.

He composes a long email for his mum explaining himself, and sends it to Cain with instructions to pass it along if it comes to that. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever written, and all he wants to do is call her and explain it to her himself, but he knows the pub would never survive that discussion.

He hopes Cain gets to her first and brings her into the inflammable room in the cellar to tell her. He can’t be the cause of more destruction.

At one point Vic brings them sandwiches and sits with them, telling Robert about who she’s talked to, how she’s going to set up her life post-bill.

“I’ll always have a spare room. No matter what, you’ve got a home with me.” She whispers a promise to him as she holds him tight.

Aaron hopes Robert will get to take her up on that one day. Likes the idea of Robert at Vic’s dinner table, safe and sound and laughing over a glass of wine.

The light has gone dark and cool as they sit together but don’t speak, neither wanting to put words to what will happen in the morning.

Robert slowly closes his laptop and leaves it on his desk, moving to the bed. He stands at the side, knees bumping the mattress as he looks at Aaron.

“Please don’t do this.”

He sounds defeated and broken, and pain radiates through Aaron, knowing that he is the cause.

He puts his phone on the side table, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “You know I’ve got no other choice.”

Robert kneels on the bed, inching closer to Aaron. “There’s always a choice!”

Aaron closes his eyes. “Don’t, Robert.”

He waits to feel the tension go out of Robert’s posture next to him, then looks over. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for pulling you into all of this.”

Robert shakes his head emphatically. “Don’t say that.”

“I–”

He’s cut off as Robert lunges forward, grabbing his shirt. “You don’t get to say that to me.”

He’s so close, all Aaron can see is his eyes, dark with emotion. He swallows, licking his lips, and Robert presses in, following the path with his own tongue. He licks into his mouth and Aaron surrenders, bringing his hands up to the back of Robert’s head, fingertips stroking at the soft short hairs there.

He loses his grip on the world, Robert taking over his every sense.

It’s Robert who pulls away, gasping for air. He has a face like thunder. “I’m not letting you go alone tomorrow.”

Aaron’s stomach rolls at the thought of Robert being there. “No.”

Robert pushes up, arms bracing himself over Aaron, tone strained. “This isn’t up for debate. I’m not leaving you.”

Aaron stares up into his eyes. “I’m not killing you.”

Robert’s face is set, voice dark, “Well, then, you’ll just have to live through this, because I’m not leaving your side.”

Aaron closes his eyes against the intensity of Robert’s gaze, voice strained, “_Please_ don’t do this to me.”

Robert shifts his weight, grabbing Aaron’s hand, squeezing until Aaron looks up. “You’ve changed my whole life, Aaron, and if you think I’m abandoning you to _die–_”

His voice cracks with emotion.

Aaron laces his fingers through Robert’s, tries to make him see. “You can escape this, you can live. I won’t be the reason you don’t.”

“Then don’t be! We can still run.” Robert sounds desperate.

“I owe _everything_ to Cain, to this organization. I’d be dead on the streets without them. I can’t survive with his blood on my hands.” He wills Robert to see reason, to accept what he’s saying.

Robert goes quiet, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Please, don’t try to stop me. Stay away tomorrow, I can’t handle it.” Aaron brings a hand up to caress the side of Robert’s face, strokes a thumb across his cheekbone.

Robert’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into Aaron’s palm, sounding lost. “I don’t know what to do.”

Aaron smiles sadly. “Try for an easier life than I’d give you.”

“I’ve had loads of easy.” Robert moves quickly, knees on either side on Aaron’s hips. “I don’t _want_ easy. I want you.”

Aaron’s heart is beating so loud he bets Robert can hear it. He brings his hands to rest on Robert’s hips. “You’ve got me.”

Robert dives down, pressing bruising kisses to Aaron’s lips, grip too hard but just right on Aaron’s biceps. He bites at Aaron’s lower lip, sucks it into his mouth.

The sensation makes Aaron’s hips buck against Robert involuntarily, gasping against the other man’s lips. He clutches at the denim hugging Robert’s legs, digs in his fingertips, pulls Robert against him, needing the contact.

Aaron knows when he shifts just right and Robert’s gasp is echoed in his power. There’s an underlying feedback loop of sensation caused by Robert’s touch, his emotions and needs spilling out across Aaron’s skin and amplifying the desire coursing through him.

The bitter tint of sorrow colors the edges of Robert’s emotions in Aaron’s mind, but the molten burn of his touch helps scorch away the sadness.

There’ll be time to mourn later.

Robert rolls his hips, lips finding Aaron’s neck when he arches from the sensation. He finally releases Aaron’s arms in favor of bracing his own on either side of Aaron’s head, holding his body up as he recaptures Aaron’s mouth.

Hands free to move, Aaron pushes them up and under Robert’s shirt, dragging blunt nails along the skin he exposes. He wants to leave scratch marks across freckles. Something remaining of him apart from the rubble.

Aaron sucks a bruise onto Robert’s neck, soothing across the reddened skin with his tongue.

Robert twists his grip into Aaron’s curls at the sensation, gasping, pulling him closer. The sharp tug combined with the sound of Robert’s harsh breaths make Aaron need more.

“Off.” He orders, rucking Robert’s shirt higher up his chest.

Robert sits up, weight resting on Aaron’s thighs as he pulls the shirt off. His chest is flushed pink, the play of freckles across his collarbone making Aaron want to count each with his lips.

Robert urges Aaron’s shirt over his head, sitting back further so Aaron can curl upwards, pausing to lean in and press a kiss to his chest.

Robert’s hands span his chest, thumbs on his sternum and fingers lying against ribs, perfectly fitting into the natural valleys of Aaron’s chest.

Aaron looks up at him, chin angled forward, stretching towards Robert’s lips while hands find their home at the back of Robert’s thighs and anchor him against Aaron.

Robert leans in and pushes Aaron flat again, kissing him desperately until they’re both starved for air and gasping. His hands trace every piece of Aaron he can reach, trailing goosebumps across his skin. His touch feels as if it brands Aaron, makes him wish each fingerprint would press color into his skin.

He groans as Robert’s hands glide over his to interlace their fingers, bringing his bare chest down to rest on Aaron’s. He can feel Robert down to his bones. The steady rush of want, the desperation. There’s something under that emotion, a whispered mantra of _stay with me_ repeated against his skin.

It’s not being forced in, not pushed on him like Robert could. It just taps against his ribs like drizzle. Wanting him to listen, but not scratching its way through his skin.

Aaron pulls Robert down, purring his emotions into the hand he’s got at Robert’s neck, fingers quaking with power and want.

Robert smiles into the kiss, slowing it down, bringing a hand up to angle Aaron’s head with a thumb positioning his chin. His kisses melt like treacle, making Aaron’s heart flutter even as he tries to hurry Robert along. He concentrates and sends out pulses through his skin, urging Robert on. He needs more, doesn’t care what it is, but wants to feel this night in every movement tomorrow.

“Robert.” He growls.

Robert must feel the edge in his voice because he pulls away, rolling off Aaron to undo his own jeans.

Aaron follows his lead, pushing everything down over his hips, kicking them onto the floor, and taking the moment to climb onto Robert, press their whole bodies together, nip at his earlobe.

He drags his hand along Robert’s body, sending out rhythmic waves as he goes, watches as the muscles under his hands tense and Robert shivers. He tries to concentrate on the responses he pulls from Robert. It’s an effort to not be pulled into the waves of need coming off the other man.

He can feel the keening want before Robert groans out the words.

“Fuck me.”

The raw groan of it makes Aaron still, take in a calming breath. The pause makes Robert open his eyes, and Aaron meets his gaze, needs to know for sure it’s what he wants, “Yeah?”

Aaron can see Robert swallow as he nods, voice raw, “God, yes.”

Robert’s fingers dig into Aaron’s shoulders, legs spreading to accommodate Aaron, allowing him to press closer. His throat is long and exposed, and Aaron can’t help himself from running his tongue along it, tasting the salt of sweat and feeling Robert’s voice rumbling through him.

A hand leaves his shoulder, reaching out to the side to scramble at the drawer of the nightstand. The twist of tendons in Robert’s neck need Aaron’s attention, so he runs his teeth along them lightly.

Robert grunts in frustration, moving a hand to Aaron’s chest, pushing him up and turning his shoulders to grasp the condoms and lube. His palm radiates desperation into Aaron’s ribcage, and Aaron shivers in reciprocation.

Robert twists back, using his empty hand to drag Aaron into a kiss, mouth hot and wanton. He passes Aaron the tube, the sharp coolness of it so different from Robert’s skin that Aaron wants to drop it just so he can put his hands back on him.

Coating his fingers in the cold slickness, Aaron is careful to warm them before he reaches between them, pressing in.

Robert’s gasp is beautiful, eyes closing as he relaxes, eyelashes fluttering. Aaron sends rhythmic pulses as he opens him, responding as Robert’s body calls for more. It’s intoxicating, the way Robert communicates. The air in the room tastes of him, his hands leave smears of need across Aaron’s back.

Aaron varies his vibrations, and knows he’s found the right spot when he pulls a high whine from Robert, his heels hitting the back of Aaron’s thighs and digging in. His pheromones a chorus of _now now now._

“Aaron.” His voice is breathy as he opens his eyes, pupils blown wide, “I’m ready.”

Robert reaches blindly to his side and tears open the packet, hands shaking as he rolls the condom onto Aaron and forces him to rest his forehead on Robert’s shoulder for a moment to bring himself under control.

He slides in slow, letting Robert adjust as he watches the play of emotions across his face, the emerald in his eyes, the group of freckles painted across his jaw. He’s beautiful. Aaron wants to remember everything about the moment, store it for as long as he has left.

Robert is overwhelmingly hot at every point of contact, legs around Aaron’s waist and heels digging into the small of his back. He grasps at the sheets, back arched, urging Aaron on with a flex of his calves.

“Move!” he growls, nails digging into Aaron’s skin.

Aaron raises a challenging eyebrow, licking his lips and using every ounce of his willpower to stay still for a beat before giving in to what they both need; pulling back and thrusting in, watching the way Robert’s mouth falls open in a gasp.

The way Robert feels makes every nerve Aaron has sparkle. He’s electric, meeting every movement of Aaron’s hips with a roll of his own, bearing down and urging Aaron on.

Aaron wants to say things he’d never let out normally. Wants to confess to emotions he can’t be feeling this early. So he leans in and silences himself on Robert’s lips, trying to pour every reckless thought he has into making Robert come apart.

Robert is babbling, kisses uncoordinated as he buzzes from Aaron’s touches. His hands keep shifting, _faster_, leaving prints of keening need on every inch of Aaron, _harder_, and making Aaron’s eyes squeeze shut, _more._

Aaron can feel the pull in his groin, the tingling need taking over his senses. He can tell Robert’s close, breathy gasps against his collarbones, quivering thighs squeezing at his sides.

Robert is like nothing he’s ever felt before. He’s magnetic, and if Aaron only has hours left on the planet, then these ones are some of the best he’ll ever have.

He needs them to come together, wants to feel Robert tighten around him.

Robert seems to sense what he’s thinking as he gasps out, “I’m close.”

Aaron nods, bringing their lips together again to swallow Robert’s moan as he shifts his hands to the back of Robert’s thighs and pushes his knees higher. The new angle makes a spike of lust push from Robert, into Aaron, forcing a deep moan from his throat.

They stay on the edge of the precipice together for a moment before Robert shudders and clenches, pulling Aaron over with him as every molecule of his being screams Robert’s name.

——

_German pharmaceutical company Abnova will be donating millions of dollars of drugs to expectant mothers in Sierra Leone in an effort to curb a rise in accidental deaths from child mutants who cannot control their power sufficiently. The company has developed and tested a number of new suppressants that can allow children to better understand their abilities without releasing the effects. Abnova has been working with German and Austrian clinics and have been widely credited with the past two years of zero accidental mutant related deaths in both countries. Other drug companies are rushing to compete, finally seeing mutant health management as a growth market for medical research._

——

Aaron wakes up with Robert’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him flush against his chest. He feels safe and warm in a way he hasn’t in years, cocooned in the duvet together.

He’s allowed himself this one night to stay, and with the way his heart is breaking at the thought of leaving this fleeting moment, he’s not sure it was the right choice.

He was never meant for this. Relationships are too fragile when in the end all he can do is send shockwaves through them.

He can feel Robert shift behind him, the deeper inhale and squeeze of arms around his torso signalling he’s awake. Aaron rests his hands on his forearms, lightly stroking the blonde hair that dusts them.

Robert’s lips against his shoulder make tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“What time is it?” Robert breathes out over Aaron’s sensitive skin, voice morning-deep.

Aaron tilts his head up to read the clock. “Nearly five. I’ve got to get back to mine soon.”

He can feel Robert shake his head, tighten his arms. “Don’t.”

“Don’t make this harder,” Aaron whispers as he grazes his thumbs over Robert’s wrist bones, feels the lump in his throat that he’s sure will be there for however long this day goes.

Robert sighs, releasing him reluctantly. “I meant what I said. I’m coming.”

The pit of fear hollowed out in Aaron’s stomach yawns wider as he puts space between them.

“Rob–”

He’s spun around, Robert suddenly far more awake, eyes intense, “You don’t get to shut me out.” His jaw clenches in resolution. “This is my fight too, and maybe I can do something.”

Aaron watches him silently for a moment before speaking, “You can’t stop me.”

“I know. When have you ever listened to me anyway?” Robert says, smiling sadly.

Aaron can’t help bring a hand up to his cheek. “Well, you’re still not my boss.”

Robert’s eyes soften. “Couldn’t do this if I were.”

He pulls Aaron in, kissing him soft and sweet. They taste of morning and each other, and frankly on any other day and with any other man Aaron would pull back and grimace, but he’ll take the moments he can.

Aaron pulls back first, knowing he needs time to shut his heart away, steel himself for the day’s actions.

“I’ve gotta go.”

Robert nods, avoiding eye contact as Aaron climbs from the bed and retrieves the previous night’s outfit, slipping it on with practiced efficiency.

Aaron can’t let himself look back, can’t see Robert still sprawled on soft sheets, hair ruffled and chest bare. He closes his eyes, steadies himself, and opens the door to slip out and then into his room.

Pete’s just outside his own door in running gear, looking shocked.

Aaron stands there, completely at a loss for what to say.

Pete runs a hand over his short hair, shifting uncomfortably. “I think I have’ta tell Graham about this.” He looks so sorry it makes Aaron want to laugh. “But I’ll wait ‘til tonight so you can get your story straight!”

That startles a chuckle out from Aaron, which makes Pete quirk an eyebrow up.

“You do that, Barton. You tell Graham anything you want tonight about me an’ him.” Aaron gestures toward the door, bubbling with desperate laughter, the kind that feels like sobs.

Pete frowns and opens his mouth to say more, but Aaron slips into his own room and shuts the door behind him as quickly as he can.

He pulls his phone— low on battery from a night in his trousers— from his pocket, and sends a text to Chrissie.

_the second you see the news I want Cain freed_

He bites his lip before composing a second one to Cain’s phone, hoping he’ll see it when he’s free.

_thanks for everything_

It’s sappier than they ever get, but he supposes this is the time if there ever is one.

He looks around his small room, sighs a shaky breath, and moves to get dressed.

——

_Today’s heartwarming story is about a preschool for mutant children in Sofia, Bulgaria, that was vandalized by a group of anti-mutant teenagers last week. The gang spray painted hate speech on the windows and doors of the building, and attempted to take apart the attached play area. Concerned citizens from all over the city came together to clean the offensive words off the walls, and even gave the inside a whole new vibrant paint job. Local businesses pooled resources to build a new and more modern play area, and hundreds of children donated new toys and books for the school. When the new space was revealed, the head teacher, Raya Petrovaa, was in tears over the kindness and generosity of the community. “Thank you for showing these children such love in response to hate.”_

——

Aaron feels sick the whole ride to the United Nations, tendrils of fear knotting around his organs. The sharp turns of Manhattan streets make his stomach flip, Robert’s side pressed against him doing nothing to settle him.

He keeps his gaze out the window of the car, tries to absorb every sight he can. The chill of late November makes everyone rush even more than usual, wrapped in dark coats and scarves. There’s still color in the shop signs, but the light is cool and harsh, and the tint of the glass between him and the world dulls everything.

It doesn’t feel quite real, like he’s watching it all on a screen. He’s barely heard a word any of the team has said over coms this morning. Idle chatter is discouraged over the earpieces, so no one questions his silence, assuming he’s tired or in a mood.

Robert presses their legs together, ankle to hip, and Aaron realizes he’s been buzzing his leg nervously, knee vibrating with energy.

He looks over and sees Robert’s hand and wants to twist their fingers together in apology. He’s not sorry he met him, but he wouldn’t blame Robert if in a few months he’s cursing Aaron’s name.

They pull up and Aaron jumps out, checking surroundings as he’s meant to. The lines of flags are whipping loudly with the wind, massive glass slab of a building looming over them, wall of concrete filling his vision.

The wind’s worse here, concentrated by the height of the building before him. It makes his skin feel raw and bitten, chilled down to the bone.

It makes him feel so profoundly human.

He takes a moment to close his eyes, breathe in the outside air, try and taste the city and its vibrancy before they head into the building.

Maybe when it all falls open around him he’ll get a final push of wind on his face.

Aaron’s at the head of the group, Robert behind him. He isn’t in the plan for the day, but there’d been no stopping his influence when Graham had raised a brow at his presence.

Jack’s behind them, surrounded by his team, a tornado of business suits and papers whirling around him as he strides across the lobby. People recognize him as he passes, leaning to whisper behind folders while watching him move.

The only part of today Aaron will enjoy is destroying that man. A hollow victory, but if he focuses on Jack he can manage to keep from shaking himself to bits.

They arrive at the elevators and Robert and Aaron shift to the back of the group, Aaron turning to scan the lobby behind them, eyes keen for any mutant scanners.

“You gotta promise me you’ll get out before...” He whispers while watching the people walking around them.

“No.” Robert’s voice is a husk of its normal confidence.

Aaron wants to spin, wants to shake the other man to have him see reason, but they’re in public and he’s only got this one chance to do this.

He moves to whisper to Robert again, when the elevator dings behind them and the group piles into it. It’s a tight fit and Aaron and Robert end up with their backs to the sliding doors, Jack’s orbit of employees all centered on his needs as they climb to the meeting floor.

Aaron almost gasps as Robert’s hand slides into his; warm and dry and comforting. The gesture is obscured by the bodies around them. He keeps his eyes forward, tries not to let the tinge of blush take over his cheeks.

There’s the briefest of squeezes, and then his palm is aching with loneliness as the doors slide open and they’re making their way to the conference room. Jack and much of his team move in through the door, and Aaron and Robert and the remainders move to the observation area.

The room has a large circular center area for presenters, with rows of desks for each member of the council, and side seats for the avid fans of international policy.

Aaron can see Graham and Pete, feels the gnaw of guilt for what they’ve been brought into. They’re good men. He knows Pete has a whole slew of brothers at home, that he’s just working in the security business to save up enough to buy himself a patch of farmland.

He shakes his head and instead watches Jack’s face brighten as he moves through the crowd, shaking hands with people Aaron knows won’t back his bill, jovial slaps at their shoulders and respectful cheek kisses when appropriate.

The bile at the back of Aaron’s throat burns.

He turns to look at Robert, really look at him for the first time since he left Robert’s room. He looks wan and drained, teeth gritting as he watches his father charm his coworkers.

“You’re twice the man he is.” The admission pours out from Aaron, making him want to clap a hand over his own mouth before he reveals anything else.

Robert turns and looks at him, mouth slightly ajar.

It makes Aaron set his jaw forward, frowning at Robert’s lack of belief in himself. He knows it was Jack that planted the seed of doubt and self-hate that’s spread its roots and tendrils throughout every crevice of Robert.

Knowing that helps somehow. That the man he’s set to destroy caused so much pain.

Aaron can’t keep his eyes on Robert any more, can’t handle the raw wound of emotions. Seeing even his profile cuts gashes into Aaron. He turns back to the respectful hubbub below, shrugging his shoulders up and folding his hands.

He’ll wait until the vote. Maybe there’s still a chance Jack will see reason, even if just to save political face on the council. Pushing a bill through without any votes for it is a sure sign he’ll be demoted later in the year.

He settles in to wait, tries to focus in on his power, feel the way it’s fueled by his hatred of Jack.

It’s at that moment that the building begins to quiver around them, deep rumbles echoing through the steel beams that hold up the walls.

——

_Daily downpours inundating parts of western Japan in the coming days will raise the risk of flooding and mudslides across the area. The rains began two days ago, and they are expected to continue through the week before diminishing in intensity this weekend. Mudslides were reported in Takeo, and the Ogi and Imari rivers overflowed their banks yesterday. Fortunately no casualties have been reported, thanks in no small part to quick action by a number of mutants in the area who were able to use their abilities to give enough warning to authorities to order an evacuation of the area. In addition, a few joined the efforts and were able to redirect mudslides around the rescue operations._

——

The lurch of the floor makes Aaron’s stomach turn, feeling the force pushing up into him, unwanted and unprovoked. His mind is spinning, trying to focus in on his ability, make sure he’s not been leaking power into the foundation, distracted by his emotions.

It’s all there inside him, wrapped and nestled safely in Robert’s calming touches from the days before.

He turns to Robert, eyes wide with fear, shaking his head, hands grasping at the seat to steady himself. “It’s not me!”

Robert frowns. “Course not, feels nothing like you.”

The room is beginning to shake, people all around panicking and grabbing for the nearest hand hold.

Robert scrabbles for the arm of his chair, voice tight with tension. “We have to get out.”

Aaron can _feel_ the building wanting to buckle, the way the supports were never built for this and want to bend from the force. His stomach rolls again as the earth shudders beneath them, pushing him back in his seat.

Robert’s hand is on his upper arm, squeezing tight. “Can you do anything?”

Aaron sends his power out beneath him, feeling the reverberations echoing through every material in the skyscraper. He wracks his mind, tries to think of anything he can do. He can feel himself panicking, can feel the terror creeping up the back of his neck.

He’s always been the epicenter, the one the fault lines spring from.

His mouth is dry and his hands are shaking, feeling unprovoked tremors spreading up his arms from the surrounding. He can’t get his bearings, world shaking each time he tries to stand.

He looks at Robert, sees the trust on the other man’s face, tries to match his breath to the swell of Robert’s chest.

There’s a flash of memory of a childhood party, a bouncy castle where he’d been treated like a piece of popcorn in the center, other kids jumping around him. He’d cried, unable to stand, feeling sicker and sicker from a day of sweets.

He remembers the feeling of sending power out, pushing waves that dampened the ones that approached him. Body kept oddly still in the middle of the crowd of children.

Aaron closes his eyes, focuses on the feeling of the shocks spreading through the building. Tries to ignore the fractures he can already feel, needing nothing but the rhythm of the quake.

Once he’s zeroed in on it, on the way it’s moving through the building, he can tell he needs room to work.

“Get out, I think I can hold it off.” Aaron stands, immediately missing Robert’s comforting grasp on his arm, and jumps over the small barrier into the middle of the floor. He can feel the impact in his shins, having fallen a bit too far for comfort, but he’s out of time. He can sense the growing weakness of the glass and steel that surrounds them.

He’s standing in the center of the room, eyes of the whole council on him. “Get out! Run!” He throws his arms wide, sending out a shockwave that he hopes will push people toward the doors.

He hopes he’s done enough as he feels a wave traveling towards the upper floors, making his guts roll as it approaches.

Aaron falls to his knees, both hands and shins on the carpet, closes his eyes and tries to match an earthquake.

He exhales out a push as the building stills, tries to absorb the next wave into his bones. He can feel the building calm momentarily, but the force of the impact on his body is punishing.

Even as he acknowledges the success it forces a nervous bubble of laughter through him. He’s one man. The massive plates that make up the earth’s crust are scraping against each other and he’s trying to stop them.

The next wave is stronger, and it tears through him, forcing out a cry of pain. It feels like his blood is boiling, filled with the energy he’s storing inside his flesh.

The following dip he fills with power makes him retch. He’s emptying himself of force, trying to reflect back what the quake is sending into the building, cancelling the impact as it approaches, sweat dripping into his eyes as he struggles to inhale.

He can feel the eyes of the room on him, but it’s all he can do to stay kneeling, all he can do to wait for the next swell, praying it’s easier than the last, knowing it won’t be.

The force shakes through him, finding every cell in his body and attempting to tear it apart. He can feel his throat grow raw from screaming but all he can hear is the blood rushing through his ears.

He wants to give in, collapse on the ground and let the building be consumed. It was what they had planned for, what he was expected to do, but the reality of the people around him and the shudders of the building make everything feel less like a strike for his side, and more like cold blooded murder.

He’s not strong enough, he can tell from the way the force is building, but he can give them time. He can help some get out.

They’ll label him at fault on the day’s news, a blessing for Cain, but at least he’ll die knowing he tried.

The tingle in his fingertips signaling the next wave makes him exhale a sob.

Robert’s suddenly on his knees in front of him, and God, Aaron’s furious he didn’t take the chance to escape, didn’t make it out.

“Get the fuck out of here.” He spits out the words, feels the way the lower floors are shuddering as the wave makes its way up to them.

“No chance.” Robert’s voice is sure, and Aaron can’t look up, too intent on managing syphoning out the force beneath him.

The cool dryness of Robert’s palms on his cheeks makes him realize he’s been crying, and he gives into the weakness of leaning into the touch.

“I can’t do this, I’m not strong enough,” he whispers, arms weak and shaking beneath him.

Robert shushes him, “You’re the strongest person I know.”

He’s funneling everything into Aaron, his faith and strength traveling through his palms into Aaron’s core.

The wave hits and Aaron can’t store it all, knows he can’t, can feel some of it spilling out around him even as he tries desperately to pull it in beneath his skin.

“I can take some.” Robert’s hands have slid down to his neck, thumbs firmly on his pulse, thin skin over rushing blood a better access for his influence.

Aaron hiccups out a gasp, tries to send an even flow along Robert’s arms, tries not to shove the energy through his veins. He can’t even begin to understand how this is possible, mind too wiped with the seemingly endless torrent of power from the earth to consider it.

As the wave subsides he can feel Robert’s hands shaking, but they don’t leave his skin, the only message they’re sending is _belief._

The knowledge that someone believes in him so selflessly gives him strength, shoving the power back into the building, trying to prevent the next wave from coming as it crashes into itself.

The ache of pushing everything he has into the structure, pulling what he stored in Robert free, trying to time his shove with the earth, makes his every organ scream in pain. His knees buckle, forcing him back on his heels as he focuses all his energy on keeping his hands against the floor. It’s white hot pain in every fiber of his being.

He’s burning out his resources, shoving everything he’s ever had into saving a building he’s not meant to leave standing, but all he can think about is the hands on his neck and how if the pulse in them keeps beating, then what he’s doing is worth it.

The rushing in his ears gets louder and he slips into the painful white light that’s filling his vision.

——

_@_ ** _FDNY_ ** _ There’s an ongoing seismic event in the area of the United Nations. Be #FDNYSmart and stay out of the area._

_@_ ** _nycemergencymgt_ ** _ #HappeningNow there have been reports of an earthquake at the U.N. #StaySafeNYC and don’t drive in the Queens Tunnel_

_@_ ** _NotifyNYC_ ** _ Due to a disaster investigation, all Manhattan-bound lanes of the Queens Tunnel are closed in Manhattan. Consider alt routes. _

_@_ ** _UN_ ** _ The @UN is managing the situation. Please remain calm, and avoid the area until you are told it is safe to return._

——

He’s floating in a white space, utterly without his senses. The only thing Aaron can feel is ghosts of hands behind his head, but there’s no one around. It’s silent. He can’t even hear his own breathing. He tries to focus and sense his pulse, but he can’t tell if anything is there at all.

The invisible hands shift under him, one cradling his head, the other coming to rest on his shoulder. They’re soothing, even as his vision remains an endless swath of white.

He wonders if he is dying and all his brain can give him in the moment is the ghosts of Robert’s touch.

It’s not the worst ending he’s imagined for himself, if he’s honest.

He closes his eyes, or tries to, the white is behind his lids as well. Considers inhaling, but can’t make himself do much of anything.

There’s an abrupt tug at his core, a painful pull at his nerves near his stomach. It makes him want to ball up, curl in on himself, but he can’t move. It does manage to shock him into a sharp inhale, feeling the gasp of air burn into his throat and lungs. They feel starved, every tissue reaching out for oxygen greedily.

He breathes in again, tries to steady his newly reinvigorated heart. He is suddenly aware of the feel of it pumping in his chest, blood rushing in his ears, painful tingling pricking along his limbs and digits.

The ghosting hands dig their nails in painfully. His vision has darkened at the edges, a warm black encroaching into the sea of white.

“Aaron, get up. Please!”

His name on Robert’s lips, even wrecked and emotional as it is, is the best sound he can imagine.

The fingers squeeze harder, pressing into his skull and shoulder.

“I haven’t got anything left to help him.” Robert’s voice sounds more distant, like he’s pleading at someone else.

Aaron wants nothing more than to speak back, to assure Robert. He tries to move his lips, form some sound, but his tongue feels heavy and his throat is raw.

He does the only thing he can manage at the moment, and coughs.

“Oh God, Aaron.” There’s raw relief in his voice, “he’s breathing. Help me get him up!”

He can feel his body being shifted, wants to help, but can barely remember how to inhale and exhale in the right rhythm. Every movement hurts, his skin feels flayed open. He can tell he’s got his back to Robert’s chest now, Robert’s arms wrapped around his chest, holding him up.

His eyes must be closed, the familiar darkness all he can see. Further sounds are slowly filtering in. Alarms blaring, chaos in the room, a man’s voice shouting. He tries to open his eyes and his vision is once again nothing but brilliant blinding light.

Aaron focuses on taking a breath.

He’s starting to see shadows in the white. There are shapes slowly forming in the middle of his vision.

He coughs again, tries to lick his lips and force his voice to return.

He can feel the responding squeeze of Robert’s forearms against his ribs, grounding him even as pain shoots through him at the contact. 

The room slowly clears up, colors and outlines returning. It’s painfully bright and chaotic, everyone moving around. He hates that Robert’s behind him, so he looks down at the hands around him, blinking at the long fingers.

He can finally swallow without feeling like glass shards are scratching into his larynx, so he grates out a croaking “Rob.”

He can feel the shuddery gasp behind him, the tightening of Robert’s arms. Robert’s voice is throaty with emotion, “You scared me.”

Aaron chuckles and then grimaces at the effort. “Scared myself.”

Robert presses a kiss to his neck, and Aaron immediately looks around for Jack. He’s pacing, shaking with stored up energy, ignoring them for the moment. There are other eyes on them, and Aaron studiously avoids the assessing gaze of Graham.

Best to focus on staying alive until he’s thrown into a facility for the rest of his life.

A police officer enters the room and Aaron should sit up, should try and prepare himself for the interrogation he’s about to undergo, but it’s taking everything he’s got not to slip back into the unconscious.

Jack goes into politician mode, back straight, moving to control the situation. His voice is trustworthy and authoritative. “Officer, these two mutants tried to kill us.”

He gestures at Robert and Aaron, crumpled together in the middle of the floor.

The police officer nods and begins to shift his weight towards them, and if Aaron had an ounce of power left in him this would be the moment to use it, to run from this. But he’s empty to his core.

He can feel Robert tense behind him.

“I’ve got no influence left,” is whispered against the tendons in Aaron’s neck.

Aaron nods, turning his head so his ear is against Robert’s chest. “It’s alright.”

He shifts, tries to push himself forward to stand in the face of his accuser. The overwhelming dizziness that envelops him makes him brace his hands on his knees, gasping in calming breaths.

Robert’s hand moves to his back, palm making soothing circles across his spine.

“See? He’s sick that he couldn’t finish what he started,” Jack sneers as Aaron stares at his own thighs, trying to remember what it feels like to be centered, listening to the approaching steps of the policeman.

“We’ve done nothing wrong,” Robert’s voice comes from behind him, hand coming to a stop on Aaron’s shoulder blade.

Aaron can hear the shifting of a set of cuffs, then the cop’s voice, “You have the right to an attorney. You can tell them your statement.”

Robert is indignant. “So you’re just going to take my father’s word as truth? No questions for anyone else?”

Aaron tilts his head up, looks through his lashes at Jack, tries to project with what little voice he has, “The man’s a liar.”

He can see Jack sputter, face going red. “I saw it with my own eyes! These two mutants tried to murder the entire council!”

A well-dressed and imperious looking woman that Aaron vaguely recalls working for the American representative straightens her shoulders and steps forward. “Sorry, officer, but that’s a bold faced lie.”

Aaron’s heart leaps in his chest at her words.

The cop stops and glances back and forth between her and Jack.

“These two men are the only reason we’re still standing.” Her voice is shaky but confident. “The quake started before either of them acted, and they did something to stop it. I have no clue what, but they _saved_ us.”

Jack surges forward, grabs her by her shoulders, towering over her. “You don’t know _what_ you saw,” he spits out, face red with hate. “They’re mutants. They’re made to murder. It’s in their genes.”

A few of the surrounding people look taken aback, two moving to help the woman who’s shrinking down in the grasp of the older man.

Robert calls to the officer, “Please! Listen to her.”

The cop has the decency to pause and take in the pitiful picture they must make, Aaron still slumped, Robert’s arms over his shoulders, trying to remember how to control his limbs. He must see they’re not a worry for the moment.

“Look, man, let go of the woman.” The cop moves towards Jack and puts a hand on his shoulder, voice stern but reasonable. “Let’s just get everyone’s story.”

Jack drops the woman, spinning around and shoving a finger into the policeman’s chest, making Graham shift uncomfortably beside him. Aaron tenses, watching the officer’s face for a reaction.

“You’re working for them, aren’t you? You’re just as disgusting as all of them.” Jack spreads his hand out and gestures to the council, eyes wild. “You’re all a bunch of mut-loving killers!”

His words make Robert tense behind Aaron, pull him back closer to his chest. Aaron slides a hand over Robert’s, fingers resting between each other’s.

“You’re the one who’s disgusting,” Robert grates out, and Aaron watches as a few others nod at his words.

Jack pushes his finger harder into the officer’s chest, bares his teeth at Robert’s words, “See? They _hate_ us.”

“Remove your hand from me,” the cop orders, voice stern.

Jack puts both hands up placatingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Oh, _I’m_ the threat now? When we’re in a room with two genetic _mistakes_ who tried to kill me?”

He looks around the room for support, and sees the way the rest of the crowd is pulling back, shifting nearer to the woman he reached for earlier.

There’s something wild and uncontrolled in the way Jack is holding himself, like he’s about to strike at the next threatthat gets too close. Aaron can see even Graham is watching him carefully, trying to predict what disaster he’s about to clean up.

“Sir, no one is trying to kill you. Calm down, let me take every one’s statements, and we’ll see where that gets us.” The officer’s placating tone as he gestures over to the group behind Jack makes the man’s face redden.

Jack lunges, pulling the man’s service revolver from the holster and pointing it first towards Aaron, then to just above his shoulder at Robert.

The cop moves, and Jack swings to point the gun at him, forcing him backward, arms up. “If you won’t do something about this infestation in the human race, then I will.” The cop takes a step back, focusing on deescalating the situation, but Aaron knows they’ve passed that point.

Jack turns back to Robert, and Aaron tries to sit taller, guard more of him with his chest.

After besting an earthquake, he’s not losing Robert to a bullet. He swallows down his fear, wishing with everything he has that he had enough force left in him to shove Jack backwards.

There’s a blur of motion from the other side, and Pete tackles Jack Sugden into the ground, forcing the gun from his grasp.

Jack hits the floor heavily, tries to grasp for the revolver, fighting against Pete.

“Nope.” Pete shifts onto his knees and punches down at Jack’s head twice until he stops moving.

There’s a silence filled with Pete’s breaths, then he stands and puts his hands in front of him, palms up, turning to the cop. “Sorry, officer.”

The cop snorts, ignoring Pete’s noble gesture to pull on a glove and pick up his gun. He moves over to the unmoving Jack and checks his pulse, seemingly satisfied with what he finds.

Aaron can’t help but feel a little disappointed he’s still breathing, but he supposes he doesn’t want Pete to suffer for Jack’s sins.

Robert shifts behind him, slowly making his way to his feet. Aaron’s back feels cold without him, but seeing his face is worth the chill. He reaches up, clasping his hand into Robert’s, and achingly pulls himself up, feeling closer to ninety than to thirty.

Once he’s standing, Robert pulls him close, tucking him under his arm and acting as a support as Aaron moves from the center of the room towards a chair.

A few members of the crowd come forward and reach out hands to thank them, Robert happy to talk for them both. Eventually Aaron gives up even the pretense of paying attention and leans into the warmth and strength of the other man, forehead resting on the column of his neck.

Robert’s hand smooths down his back, the vibration of his voice palpable in Aaron’s cheek. “We’ll be done soon, and then we can go home.”

Aaron nods, tired to his bones. “How’re you still standing?”

“Got you, don’t I?” Robert leans his weight playfully onto Aaron’s shoulder, pulling it back when Aaron groans.

Robert’s voice goes quieter and more serious. “All I did was help carry the load. You held an _earthquake_, Aaron.” There’s awe in how he speaks. Aaron feels it too, that disbelief about what they just did.

“Couldn’t’ve kept it together alone.” Aaron paws at Robert’s chest, trying to get his point across.

He can feel Robert rest his chin on his head as he wraps his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, holding on to him, pulling him closer.

From behind them, the officer’s voice calls out. “Alright, my partners are on their way up here, so everyone be prepared to give your statements.”

——

_A pair of unnamed as of yet mutants prevented the destruction of the New York United Nations building today, saving thousands of lives. Three nearby buildings toppled under the stress, killing nearly four hundred New Yorkers. Mayor de Blasio gave a speech at City Hall mourning those who were lost, and praising the quick thinking of the responders within the U.N.. The city estimates nearly a billion dollars of damage in addition to the loss of life, and is now engaging with seismologists as to how to better prepare for disasters such as this in the future. Critics of the current administration are already pointing to earlier headlines that warned of the increased seismic activity along the coast, and are questioning why the city did nothing in response to warnings. This event seems to be another pivotal moment in the changing tide of mutant opinion. One of the comments on an earlier version of this story says “If things like this are gonna happen, maybe we should think about respectin’ their whole deal more, you know?” Perhaps we should rethink our response to those with the gene as a city and a country._

——

Aaron can’t remember the ride back to the house. He only feels the way Robert’s arm is wrapped around him, and gratitude for the darkness inside the car, head pounding.

He knows he promised the police an interview later that day, Robert’s voice gentle as he made excuses for them both.

By the time they’re inside, Robert’s energy is beginning to flag, his lean on Aaron heavier. They collapse onto Robert’s bed, barely able to toe off their shoes before crawling under the covers.

Aaron knows he should check his phone, knows there’s probably endless messages from Chrissie. He’s neither failed nor succeeded today, and he has no clue what that means for him. But in this moment, with Robert’s arms holding him and a pillow under his head, all he can do is sink into sleep.

Opening his eyes to a far brighter room tells him it’s well into the afternoon. Aaron’s stomach is aching with hunger. He’d not been able to choke anything down that morning due to nerves. He shifts, looks at Robert, face slack with sleep, and marvels at how unburdened he looks.

He wonders if when Robert wakes up he’ll stay like this; if his forehead will have fewer lines, finally free of his father. It makes him smile to think of the way Robert’s face looks when he’s laughing, free and open.

Aaron slowly pulls himself out of the bed, looking down at his rumpled suit and feeling the pillow lines on his cheek. He slouches off the jacket, retucks in the shirt, and shuffles his way downstairs to scrounge up some food.

He’s sitting at the table, piles of cheese on bread before him, when Pete walks in.

Pete scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Being a superhero really builds up an appetite, huh?”

Aaron chews his bite, shrugging. He appreciates what Pete’s doing, a show of comfort with who Aaron is, but it makes him uneasy. He’s never been open at work before, doesn’t want the admiration or fear. Would rather sink back into the anonymity of his job.

Pete, to Aaron’s surprise, grabs a water from the fridge and sits with him, worrying the label with his nails.

He’s got something to say, and Aaron’s going to wait it out with him. He takes another bite, focusing on what’s in front of him rather than scaring the other man away.

“My brother is, er, _was_ an MMA fighter.” Pete coughs, takes a sip from his bottle. “Always thought it weren’t fair that one of his gene was the thing to end a dream.”

Aaron relaxes, shoulders falling. He swallows, keeps his eyes on his plate when he says, “Not much’s fair for us.”

There’s a silence. Aaron looks up to find Pete considering him, so he holds his gaze.

“Suppose not.” Pete stands, chair pushing back, water bottle in hand. “Hope that’ll change now.”

He leans over and claps a hand onto Aaron’s shoulder, sounding sad, “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for workin’ for him.”

That startles Aaron, makes something in him warm that’s been closed off. He nods, voice thick, “Ta.”

After Pete leaves the room, he sits in silence, stares out at the table, and wonders if he’s done something big enough to make a difference. Uncertainty makes his insides twist in fear, his heart hammer in his chest.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, a reminder of the world outside the kitchen. Of his responsibilities. He’s ignored its slight weight at his hip as long as he can.

The most recent message is a link to an article, tiny image and title visible: ‘New U.N. Security Council Head Vows Mutant Support After Disaster.”

_Well done, Dingle._

His hands start shaking, reading and rereading the text from Chrissie.

Cain’s message comes next: _all peachy. On way to village now._

He puts the phone down, pressing his palms to his eyes to prevent tears of relief from slipping out. He’s dizzy with emotion, the idea that there’s a tomorrow, that he’s maybe done enough to change some minds.

His phone buzzes again, a text from Chas on his screen, an article about the U.N. quake above _Why do I have a feeling you’re involved in all this?_

He laughs, the joy bubbling up inside him and making his cheeks hurt. He types out a message: _im innocent! just ask cain._

_You better believe I will. _Is replied quickly enough that Aaron can tell she’s got her phone in her hand.

He smiles at the message. If his uncle was foolish enough to get caught by Chrissie, he deserves a little misery from Aaron’s mum.

He decides _love u _is enough of a reply and puts his phone back in his pocket, rising and stuffing the last too-big bite into his mouth as he moves to rinse off the plate.

He’s tired again, but the police will be by soon, so he needs to wake Robert. He moves quietly upstairs, trying to stretch out the lactic acid from his muscles, sore from too much stored energy.

His hand is on Robert’s door handle when his phone buzzes with a text from Cain.

_I hate you._

He opens the door while stifling laughter, feeling lighter than he has in years.

——

_Prime Minister King is scrambling to distance herself from disgraced U.N. member Jack Sugden as reports of his actions last week are coming to light. The man attacked an officer of the law, stole his gun, and tried to murder the mutants who had saved his life mere moments before, including his own son. Sugden’s fellow security council members have made numerous statements regarding their support for mutants, and a new bill was proposed this morning to increase mental health funding for mutants across the United Nations. King, a long time friend of Sugden, has been photographed this week visiting mutant children and speaking with prominent mutant rights activists, and released a statement promising to reconsider the Imprisonment Act, which allows for the indefinite incarceration of dangerous mutants by the government. Sources inside number ten say that she’s even set up meetings with Sugden’s son in an effort to repair her popularity ratings._

——

Aaron can’t keep himself from adjusting his collar, trying to pull it away from his neck so he has room to breathe. Robert looks infuriatingly comfortable as can be in a deep blue suit.

If Aaron couldn’t tell that he’s barely holding it together and that the varnish of cool is close to cracking, he’d hate him.

It’s been a fortnight since the U.N. and they’re finally back in London, sitting in a cafe with wide windows that Aaron is trying to ignore.

Too many eyes have been on him since he did what he did. A staffer tweeted a picture of him in Robert’s arms amongst the chaos of papers and toppled chairs, and every news outlet had leapt for it, making him out to be a tragic hero.

Robert had printed it out, said Aaron looked like a Renaissance painting. He doesn’t feel like much of anything except like an open target for anyone who wants to kill a recognizable mutant.

Aaron swears he can feel her approach, stylish yet sensible shoes ticking along the floor. Chrissie White looks luxurious in a houndstooth coat, flimsy but colorful scarf wrapped around her neck.

He shifts his weight so he’s between her and Robert, and Robert undoes it all by standing and kissing her on both cheeks, the practiced ritual of a politician’s child. “Chrissie! _What_ a pleasure.”

He gestures at the chair to his side, plastic smile plastered across his face. “Please sit, Aaron and I were just glancing at the menu. I hear their macarons are wonderful.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. He’s never looked at a cafe menu in his life and he’s relatively certain he doesn’t have a clue what a macaron is.

He remains on edge, eyes tracking every shift of Chrissie’s from when she gracefully removes her coat to when she slides into her chair. She’s in a cream colored blouse, effortlessly put together at every turn. He hates the ease with which she settles in.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me here.” Her voice is blandly friendly, the picture of a society woman who is gracing someone with her presence.

Aaron bites down a retort, knows nothing positive can come of it.

Her nails are shiny and perfect, lightly tapping against the back of the menu as she makes a show of choosing something.

The waitress saves them from small talk by arriving, allowing Aaron to order a black tea to Robert’s Americano.

“Oh, it _all_ looks delightful, but I think I’ll have a macchiato today.” Chrissie smiles up at the woman, handing the menu back.

There’s a long silence before Chrissie lets the friendly face drop, looking back and forth between the two men. “So. What did you bring me here for?” She smiles, all teeth. A confident predator in a room of prey. “It can’t be for a friendly catch up.”

Aaron shifts uncomfortably, looking at Robert, who has suddenly gone brittle and silent. He knows they need to know, which is why he’d reached out to Chrissie, but Robert’s been dragging his feet at every turn.

Chrissie looks expectantly at Aaron, head tilted slightly.

“Ehm, we just wanted to know…” He clears his throat, sneaks another glance at where Robert is frozen, “Why?”

The icy tinkle of Chrissie’s laugh startles him, making his heart race. Robert puts a hand on his thigh.

“My dear boys. Don’t you read _anything_?” She leans in, sharing her secret, “My foundation is running seventy percent of the mutant health clinics in the city, and we have contracts to build hundreds more across the country by the end of the year.”

She leans back, “There’s public funding flowing in, not to mention plenty of investments by wealthy people who suddenly have consciences.” There’s a bite in the way she says suddenly that Aaron agrees with. Too many people are rushing to look like they care now that the tide has turned.

Robert’s hand clenches on Aaron’s thigh.

“I’ve got records on every patient who visits, every power, every slip up.” Her words are pointed and clipped, nails tapping in emphasis.

Aaron’s mind is racing. Chrissie could form an army with knowledge like that. He watches the way she holds herself, each joint radiating control. He assumes she’s already making plans.

“And _I’m_ just the wealthy benefactor!” Chrissie turns to Robert and raises her eyebrows. “There’s nothing like hiding in plain sight. Being the benevolent face of a good will organization. Surely _you_ remember the power of being underestimated.”

Robert sneers at her, “Can’t say I ever used my powers like you do.”

Her smile remains on her face but leaves her eyes. “No, you just push women to do your dirty work for you, _Sugden_.”

Robert pales, and Aaron leans forward angrily, voice a low growl. “We both know he barely tapped her. She hated you already.”

Chrissie looks at him and her smile falls away completely, leaving only cold detachment. “True. A shame, she never did get over the news that my mother was a carrier while hers wasn’t.”

The waitress arrives with a tray of carefully balanced drinks and places them down delicately.

Aaron reaches forward for his tea simply for something to occupy his hands so he doesn’t lunge for the soulless woman across from him. The heat radiating into his palms is soothing.

Chrissie daintily sips her drink, keeping her eyes on the two of them.

Robert is tightening with anger, jaw shifting as he clenches it, but expression remaining blandly passive despite his tension. Aaron presses his thigh against Robert’s, tries to remind him where they are. Causing a scene isn’t an option.

Robert looks at him and inhales, tries to relax. Takes a sip of his drink, grimaces at the heat.

Aaron turns to Chrissie, voice final, “I’m done, you know that?”

Her mouth twists wryly, “Of course. I’m not in the business of superheroes, Dingle.”

Aaron flashes to images of supervillains in comic books. Chrissie would fit right in, all flash and power.

He pushes through, “And my family. You leave them out of this.”

Her eyes narrow and she brings her cup down to the saucer, nails tapping lightly against the porcelain. “I don’t like taking orders.”

Robert crosses his arms at the threat, finally speaking up, “Well, too bad that the two most recognizable mutant names in London are more than willing to call you out if needs must.”

Her eyes flick over to Robert, assessing him as an opponent, and she seems to come to a decision. She turns back to Aaron, face slightly pinched in displeasure. “I suppose using anyone with such a recognizable last name is less than covert. I agree to your terms.”

She extends her hand, and Aaron nervously returns the gesture, feeling bile rise in his throat at the touch of her soft fingers against his palm.

She holds his grip, power abruptly cutting off the circulation in his forearm, and again he is floored by her control, “Just understand, that I am not someone you should be crossing.”

Aaron nods weakly, yanking his hand away.

Robert pulls out his wallet, placing a ten pound note on the table, and moves to stand. “Well, this was enlightening, but frankly? I’m done here.” He leaves his Americano on the table, barely touched and still hot.

Chrissie’s brows rise ever so slightly in surprise at the sudden retreat, but Aaron can tell Robert needs to leave, needs to find some air and hold Aaron close, so he stands as well.

“A shame you can’t stay for a macaron.” She has the audacity to look pleased at her victory, frightening away the two of them.

He’s unsure if it’s the teasing note in her tone or the way she’s written off Robert this whole conversation that makes him do it, but as he walks away he jostles the table with his power, spilling the entirety of Robert’s drink across her pristine lap.

Her cry of anger and shock follows them as Robert grabs his hand and pulls him into the freezing street.

He turns to Aaron, tension slowly leaving his body, a grin across his face. “You’re brilliant.”

Aaron shrugs, pulling a face, and teases, “You won’t be saying that when she kills you in your sleep.”

Robert pulls him in by his coat collar, until their misty exhales are intertwined. “Lucky I’ve got a bodyguard, then, yeah?”

Aaron rolls his eyes, smile spreading across his face as Robert leans in to kiss him, warm coffee flavored lips in stark contrast to the chill of December.

——

_In a series of landmark wins for mutants around the world, Australia, France, and Canada have all passed laws against mutant persecution and discrimination this month. These laws give any people who are carriers of the gene protection and allow them to make legal claims against assailants or unlawful termination at work. All this after last month’s move in Spain and Portugal to strike anti-mutant laws from the records, and cut short the sentences of hundreds of prisoners who were incarcerated under the former laws. Funding for mutant clinics and research has increased tenfold across Europe, and new medical and therapeutic innovations are already being piloted in the hundreds of White Dove Foundations across the United Kingdom._

——

It’s a bright day in early March, one of those ones that make Aaron want to sit around in the sun in just a jumper after months of winter and thick coats, but he’s out of luck. Instead, he’s examining himself in the mirror, checking his deep navy suit for any lint.

Even he has to admit Leyla did well with the fit.

Robert’s hands slip around his waist from behind, chin tucking in against his neck. He whispers against Aaron’s ear, “You look amazing.”

Aaron leans his head back a little, basking in the warmth and affection that Robert wraps around him. “Shut up.” He murmurs lazily.

Robert hums in reply.

They stand there, quietly enjoying each other’s company until Aaron reluctantly taps Robert’s wrist. “We have to get a move on. Can’t be late for our own event.”

“We’re doing the right thing, yeah?” Robert’s forehead pushes lightly against Aaron’s beard, voice quiet and unsure.

Aaron grips Robert’s arms and nods. “Yeah.”

He can hear Robert swallow nervously before pulling back, straightening. Aaron turns, finally seeing the full effect of Robert’s suit. It’s a deep green, Robert keeps calling it ‘spruce’ but Aaron cannot bring himself to call a color something that pretentious, and it makes his eyes shimmer emerald.

Robert puts his arms out, preens a little. “Do I pass the test?”

Aaron tilts his head, slowly drags his eyes down Robert’s body, then back up to his eyes. “You’re alright, I suppose.”

Robert shakes his head, grinning. “Quite nearly a compliment! I must look devastatingly handsome.” He leans slightly, checks himself in the mirror, and messes with his hair.

Aaron checks his watch and swats at Robert’s fiddling. “We have to go.”

Robert shoots him a look. “It’s down the road, Dingle.”

Aaron’s already moving towards the door, but he turns and smiles. “Sure, but the sooner this is done? The sooner you can get me out of this suit.”

Robert’s eyes darken, and he licks his lips.

“Alright, out the door!” He strides over as Aaron laughs.

They make their way down the road, Aaron enjoying the village air. Robert gone silent and thoughtful as they match strides.

Emmerdale is generally quiet this early, but a small crowd is gathering around the new building by The Woolpack, his mum outside already looking misty eyed next to a ribbon he supposes they’re meant to cut together.

His eyes track over the building. They’d worked together to make it fit in with its surroundings while still seeming modern and clean. Robert had spent what felt like hours arguing with the contractor about the font on the sign, but he was right in the end. The simple filigree in gold stands out against the white background.

The Sarah Sugden Clinic.

It makes Aaron warm, thinking of the two therapists and three doctors they’ve hired over the past month, the work the whole village had put in to furnishing the common spaces so they’re welcoming and comforting.

He thinks about how his younger cousins are just beginning to show their abilities, and knows that here they’ll have a safe and understanding place to learn how to control them.

His eyes start prickling at the edges, tears threatening to spill over.

Robert grabs his hand, squeezing it tight. “Oy, not yet. We’ve got photos to take.”

Aaron sniffs, smiling back at him, paused just on the edge of the crowd. “I know, it’s just…”

He looks around them, at the way the village has come together to welcome them openly in a way it never could before, “All this?” He sniffs again. “It’d never have happened without you.”

Robert’s smiles, stepping closer to him. “Pretty sure it also wouldn’t have happened without you.”

Aaron brings their hands up between them, thumb running across Robert’s knuckles, inhaling carefully as he tries to settle himself. “I just… I needed this so much as a kid.”

Robert nods encouragingly, so Aaron continues, “and if I could tell younger me what would happen? I don’t think he’d believe me.” Aaron tilts his head up slightly to look into Robert’s eyes, nervously wetting his lips, “I don’t think he could imagine a world where I get this, you know?”

Robert brings one hand to Aaron’s cheek, pulling him closer. “I know. I don’t think I’d have believed it either.”

Aaron leans in, places a soft kiss on Robert’s lips in front of the whole village. He feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest at the way Robert’s hand caresses his face, the way they’re still holding hands, the way Robert’s eyes are smiling when he pulls back.

“I love you.” It spills out of Aaron’s lips, an admission he’d not yet allowed himself to say, but can’t hold in any longer.

The grin that spreads across Robert’s face is blinding as he pulls him back in for a kiss, hands on Aaron’s skin repeating a mantra of _love_ into his bones.

Someone wolf whistles behind them.

They break apart, Robert flushed and Aaron wide eyed. Aaron moves to pull back, but Robert holds him there for a moment, still smiling.

“I love you too.” And Aaron can’t help himself from letting the earth rumble for joy beneath them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've never written anything this long or intense before, and I needed so much help through the whole process. 
> 
> Infinite thank yous to @spamela-hamderson and @rustandruin for their thoughtful edits and advice. I swear it would all have gone in the trash without them both.
> 
> The emotional support of @some-mad-lunge and @peoplediedrobert cannot be overstated. They listened as I whined for weeks about writing and gave me much needed love when I despaired.
> 
> Another round of applause for my artist, @rustandruin! Their friendship through this all has been so fabulous.


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